Repercussions 3rd in the FS Series
by Ms-Maggs
Summary: 3rd in the FS series. The Cavein was the easy part, now they have to deal with the aftermath & the fame! GS,GrOC,CW,NOC,BrLH. Gris gets shocking news,Sara goes into overdrive & Greg copes with the baby reality. Complete
1. Default Chapter

**Author's Note:**

This is the 3rd story series in the Feasibility Study series and picks up exactly where Caving Under Pressure left off. All 8 chapters are posted. Originally FS 29-36.

* * *

"**Repercussions – Part 1"**

**August 4, 2005 (Day 104)  
****Vancouver, BC  
****Sutton Place Hotel  
****Fleuri Restaurant  
****4:14 p.m. **

Alone at a well appointed table for two, Heather, wearing a chiffon, blush-pink wrap dress, sat reading The DaVinci Code while enjoying the elegant afternoon tea service of the restaurant.

"Hello, Ms. Duvall," Jim Brass, outfitted in a sharp pair of khakis and a crisp indigo short-sleeve shirt, warmly greeted the lovely lady hiding behind a hardcover book.

"Mr. Brass," She lightly gasped as she demurely shifted her eyes to the plate of finger sandwiches in front of her. "I'm afraid I feel a little awkward after last night." Gently, she folded her book and set it on the table.

"Please, you shouldn't." He brought his right hand to his chest. "I understand why you changed your mind about having drinks in your room. We just met on a plane and you don't know anything about me."

Bashfully lifting her hazel eyes, she whispered, "I feel as though I led you on and I'm a bit embarrassed." She motioned for him to take the seat across from her and when he did, she finished her thought. "I'm quite shy and I don't know what came over me when I asked if you would come to my room for a drink." Picking up her china tea cup, she took refuge behind it. "I blame pheromones."

Relaxing in his seat, he said, "Pheromones? Are you insinuating there was an instant chemistry between us?"

"I'm afraid I just embarrassed myself again," She chuckled into her tea cup. "Because you obviously don't feel the same way."

"Maybe I'm just good at hiding what I'm feeling," He countered as he checked his watch. "Ms. Duvall, do you have dinner plans this evening? Because I'd like to take you to dinner."

"Why would you like to take me to dinner?"

"To further explore the undeniable chemistry between us." Grinning, he stood. "Six o'clock in the lobby sound good?"

"What should I wear?"

"Whatever color matches your mood." He winked. "See you at six."

"Six it is," She eagerly replied while reaching for her book. As she cracked it open she thought…damn, he is as good at this game as me! He didn't even flinch when I made my power play with 'I'm sorry I've changed my mind about drinks in my room' last night. Today he takes it back by waiting all day to find me and ask me to dinner, and then he tells me to wear whatever color matches my mood. Oh yeah…Jim Brass is a man who knows that twenty-four hours of role-play foreplay pays off big.

**Boulder City Hospital  
****4:36 p.m.**

After being wheeled in on stretchers, Grissom and Catherine were transferred to ER beds in side by side cubicles and quickly assessed by two nurses. Nine hours trapped in a sweltering cramped space with no water had left them physically drained. And now that the shock and adrenaline had worn off, the trauma finally caught up with them.

Waiting for the nurses to return, Sara and Warrick stood poised in between the patients, reacting to the sight of their loved ones looking so vulnerable and realizing once more how much worse the incident could have been.

As he stared at Catherine lying helpless, wearing her neck brace and strapped to a backboard, Warrick's thoughts quickly turned accusatory. "We never should have been in that building."

Grissom slowly turned his weary head toward the direction of the bitter voice.

Glaring at his boss, Warrick sharply reminded him, "I told you when we were walking in there it looked like it was condemned. I _specifically_ asked you if you thought it was safe, and you _joked_ it off asking if I was afraid of ghosts. You never even thought to check if it was secure before having us go in there. Your recklessness almost cost Catherine her life and Lindsay her mom."

"Warrick!" Catherine tried to interject but, still weak and pinned to a backboard, she wasn't very successful.

"Excuse me!" Sara ignited in defense of her man and from the gall of the one accusing him. "I can't believe what I'm hearing coming from _you _of all people!"

Warrick bristled, "This isn't about you, Sara."

"It's about my _husband,_ which makes it about me! I'm not going to idly stand by while you misdirect your anger at him when he's too exhausted to defend himself." Her tone hardened. "Who are you to talk about reckless endangerment in the field? You _abandoned_ your partner at a crime scene to _gamble_ and she was killed. _That_ was reckless! You wouldn't even have a career if it wasn't for Grissom putting his ass on the line for you! And _this _is the thanks he gets down the road? How dare you!"

"Sara…" Grissom attempted to calm her, but his voice was too hoarse to have an impact.

"Bringing up Holly…that was low," Warrick bitterly replied.

"I was just following your lead!" She snapped back.

"Hey!" Catherine finally worked up the strength to scream. "Both of you shut the hell up."

Like petulant children, Sara and Warrick averted their eyes as Catherine chastised them.

Once she silenced them, she lowered her voice. "Warrick you couldn't be more wrong. We believed the building wasn't condemned because the real-estate people were there and Vartann after them. You _know_ it only collapsed because that woman drove her truck into it. It was a fluke accident. No different than if we were processing on the street and someone plowed into us. On top of all that…" She looked at her distressed boss when she said the next part, "…Grissom saved my life in that basement and almost lost his in the process. He'd never put me in harm's way. He wouldn't have put himself in harm's way. He just got married a week ago, do you think he would have walked in there if he thought for a moment he might die and leave Sara behind?"

Sara took the opportunity to snipe. "See, even your girlfriend agrees with me."

"Hey! I only agree with _one_ of the things you said," Catherine snarled. "Bringing up Holly's death was a cheap shot. You know how her death devastated Warrick. I think you could have found a _much _better way to make your point than dredging up a painful memory from five years ago. That was an_ extremely_ bitchy thing to say!"

Nurses Connie Lewis and Tonya Bennett, both forty-something pros, bolted into the middle of the fray. "Visitors! To the waiting room right now!" Nurse Bennett demanded. "Although it's a slow afternoon, you're not the only ones in here and I won't tolerate this kind of fighting in my ER. Out!"

Reluctantly, Sara and Warrick left the patient care area, trudging out the door to the waiting area.

"Why are you guys out here?" Nick asked upon seeing their long faces. He was hanging out waiting for Ana Silva to arrive. Something he hadn't yet mentioned to Grissom and Sara. "Again…why are the two of you out here instead of in there?"

"Because Warrick was being a jerk."

"And when Sara called me on it, she got loud, not to mention nasty."

Floored by the comments, Nick postured, "A jerk about what?"

Sara was more than happy to tell him. "Warrick blamed Grissom for the accident and called him reckless! I wasn't going to stand there and let him slam my husband when it's totally unjustified!"

"Then she threw Holly's death in my face to make her point."

Nick instinctively jumped into the peacemaker role. "You're both maxed out from the tension of the day and saying things you don't mean. You know that, right?"

Sara and Warrick briefly made eye contact and then stared at the floor.

Looking first to his buddy, Nick commented, "Warrick you were upset Catherine almost died and you vented your anger at the nearest target." Then he turned to Sara, "And when he targeted Grissom, it was a natural reaction to defend him. Because you're so off-balance you said things you probably wouldn't have said under different circumstances. Think about it…you know I'm right."

Once again the two glanced at each other.

Pleased that they were maintaining eye contact, Nick smiled. "Now you aren't doing Cath and Gris any good out here so, maybe if you make up and promise to be nice, the nurse will let you back in."

Warrick was the first to budge. "Nick's right. I was upset and took it out on Grissom. I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one who needs to hear your apology," She gently informed him. "But you'll get mine for throwing Holly's death in your face. I uh…tend to fight a little dirty when I get ticked. I'm sorry."

Back in the patient care area, Catherine, unable to turn due to her brace, stared at the ceiling and remarked to Grissom "Does she fight that way with you? Launching low blows?"

He answered statistically. "We've only argued a few times, so the sample isn't big enough to determine a pattern."

"A few times? That's not healthy. I mean, Warrick and I probably get heated a little too frequently but…release of pent up animosity is good."

He wouldn't go into detail so he simply said, "Based on Sara's history, me getting upset and yelling isn't something she needs in her life, so I try my best to stay in control at all times."

"There's one way to guarantee you'll explode some day."

The nurses returning interrupted the discussion.

Nurse Lewis pulled a gown out of the supply drawer and tossed it at Grissom. "Time to get out of these filthy clothes and get you hydrated, Mr. Grissom." She yanked the curtain closed. "While you're doing that, I'll see if your wife has cooled her jets so I can let her back in here. I heard about your love story on the news, so I have a soft spot for the two of you." After patting him on the shoulder, she slipped out from the cubicle.

Gingerly, he started removing his coveralls until the nurse's comment registered. "Love story on the news?"

"You're going to hate this," Catherine warned from the other side of the curtain. "Warrick filled me in on the ambulance ride. Nick told him."

"How about telling me!"

"Apparently some news bimbo got tape of Sara having a nervous breakdown at the scene. Then she got the scoop on the two of you. She used it to up the human interest angle to the building collapse story…poor Sara Grissom, wife of only eight days, may lose her crime-fighting husband in a freak accident. It's been broadcast all over the metro area…right now you're Vegas' most popular couple."

Panic rose in his voice. "Tell me you're lying."

Through the front side of the curtain, Nick replied, "She's not lying and it gets worse."

"Worse!"

Before stepping through the curtain, Nick asked, "Are ya decent in there? I don't want to see your ass poking out of the opening in your gown."

Catherine, fueled by the pain killer that was kicking in, laughed, "I've seen his ass…good call."

Sara popped through the curtain. "When exactly did Catherine see your ass?" Immediately she took over helping him into his gown.

"Uh oh." Catherine snarked. "She's jealous."

Warrick stepped over to Catherine's side. "Should _I _be?"

Nick stood frozen outside the curtain.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "For all I know it will be on the six o'clock news so here's the story…I told Catherine about my surgery because I had to tell someone in case I died on the table. I couldn't tell you, Sara…you know why, and since Catherine was next in command at work, I told her. She showed up at the hospital to wish me luck." He groaned, "And she saw my ass hanging out the back of my gown. Gave me crap about it for a year."

Warrick breathed a sigh of relief. Even though he knew Catherine had been around the block _many _times and he didn't mind, if she had taken a spin with Grissom that would have been, as Greg would put it…squicky. "That was nice of you, Baby." He gently kissed her forehead.

Nick relaxed. "Okay, now that we have that scare out of the way, let's talk about the next one. Can I come in?"

"Yes," Grissom replied as he sat up for Sara to securely tie the back of his gown.

Nick smiled at the couple before dropping the bomb. "Here's what happened. Sara was a bit overcome with emotion and, thanks to a powerful zoom lens and a diva news reporter, KTBC ran with it. Later, this same reporter, Ana Silva, found Sara, who was blissfully uninhibited thanks to 5mgs of Valium."

"I remember talking to her," Sara commented. "But I didn't know I was on TV!" Her hands raced to her mouth. "Oh my god! I talked to her like she was some long-lost friend!"

"Yeah." Nick nodded. "Don't panic. I made a deal with her. She had already run a few sound bytes of your tape, but she agreed not to play anymore when I offered her an exclusive interview with the two of you and the surprise angle of the story…Catherine being trapped in there too."

From the other side of the curtain, Catherine squealed, "Oh, so I'm being dragged into this to save them humiliation!"

"You _love _media attention when you're on a court case," Nick explained. "I didn't think you would mind."

"Normally, but have you _seen_ me!"

Nurse Lewis returned with her IV drips. "I'm going to have to ask your extra guest to leave. We have work to do here."

Nick nodded. "She's coming to the hospital and we just have to give her something for the ten o'clock news. Trust me…it's a good deal compared to letting her play Sara's _Confessions of a Love Struck Lab Rat_. All of Vegas already knows it took the two of you five years to get your groove on. Let's not make it more embarrassing." With that, he left to return to the waiting area.

Grissom was glad he was already lying down.

The nurse smiled at Sara, "Five years is a long time to hold out, Sweetie. Was he worth it?"

"Hell yeah." She kissed her husband's gritty, salty forehead. "Grissom is the only guy for me."

"You call your husband by his last name?" The nurse asked while she combed her patient's arm for a decent vein.

From the other side of the curtain Catherine yelled, "Sara, could you do us _all_ a favor and start calling your husband, Gil? Because we think it's weird that you still call him Grissom."

Sara looked at her man. "Wouldn't that feel odd after all these years?"

Catherine coughed.

Taking the cue, he replied, "Uh…actually, no, I think I'd like it." After wincing from the needle's prick, he said, "It's good symmetry because I don't call you Sidle."

"Good point, _Gil_." Sara smiled.

The nurse finished taping the IV in place. "Okay, you're set with fluids and electrolytes. Keep drinking your water too. Next I'll get started on your cardiac work up."

"What!" Sara panicked. "Why? Is there something wrong with his heart!" Convinced the other shoe was about to drop, she clutched her husband's hand.

"Rapid pulse, blood pressure…"

"Symptoms of dehydration," Grissom quickly clarified for his nervous wife.

"Yep." Nurse Lewis continued jotting notes on her clip board. "But Doctor Ortiz insists on the work up because we live in a litigious society and he needs to cover his ass because _Gil_, fits the profile."

"Profile?" Sara stared at the nurse.

"That's right." Her eyes on her clipboard, the nurse droned, "Unstable vitals, pushing fifty, high pressure job, out of shape, needs to lose _at least_ twenty pounds. Doctor's not letting your hubby out of here until he's sure he won't bust an artery walking out the door."

Grissom cringed at his description, especially since he knew it was broadcast through the curtain wall. Funny thing about emergency rooms…you're at your absolute worst and required to discuss the most personal information, but have no privacy. Normally, however, you don't know the people beyond the thin cotton wall, but today…not so lucky. "Don't worry, Sara. Remember, I was just at the doctor's a couple of months ago and…"

"For a sperm count!" She boomed. "That doesn't have any bearing on the condition of your heart!"

The nurse laughed as she gathered the necessary electrocardiogram supplies from the drawers. "Well, if he didn't keel over giving his sample, it's a good sign."

"And I didn't," He loudly replied for the benefit of anyone in earshot. "And, as you recall, my numbers were **_fantastic_**."

Finally there was a response from the next cubicle. "I accidentally saw the test results and will vouch that he's not exaggerating."

Warrick, over his earlier anxiety, joked, "Baby, you've seen his ass and his motility results, what else don't I know?"

Sara mouthed, sorry, to her husband, which triggered her memory. "Hey, Warrick, isn't there something else you were going to say?"

Through the curtain, Warrick said, "Yeah…uh…sorry for getting on your case, Gris. I was out of line and I know you'd never do anything to jeopardize Catherine."

Grissom, trying to lighten the tension and save his ass, said, "You forget everything you heard and we're even."

"Deal." Smiling, he returned to Catherine's side and asked her nurse, "When can she get the brace off?"

Nurse Bennett checked her watch. "We're waiting for transport to take her for a CT. After the doctor looks at the results, he'll be able to make treatment decisions."

While the nurse Lewis placed the first of the twelve leads on Grissom's chest, Sara felt a neurotic twinge building within. "Seeing this just…it reminds of how…what if something else happens to you before we conceive?"

"Let's not talk about this now, Honey." Grissom gave her hand a squeeze. When she kept talking he knew his message went unheard.

"When you were buried, I was devastated thinking I'd never get a chance to have our baby."

Certain that if she continued talking his EKG would show some stress, he pleaded, "Really, Honey…"

The nurse, used to ignoring conversations such as these, kept working but, when she saw how distraught Sara was getting, she said, "You're odds of conceiving are lessened if you're too tense about it."

"Thank you." Grissom was happy to have a second rational voice in the room. "I've told her that many times. Plus, we just started trying." He brought her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. "You have to relax."

As the nurse secured the last of the leads, she looked at Sara. "My sister is such a perfectionist that she went nuts after not conceiving by the third try. She's paranoid too. Was totally convinced her husband was going to get hit by a bus or take a fatal hit in the family jewels and become impotent before getting pregnant." Laughing, she said, "So she made him make a deposit at the sperm bank as insurance!"

When Grissom saw Sara's face light up he knew he was about to lose a hundred bucks.

Sara couldn't believe she hadn't thought of the option herself. "Honey…"

Resignation saturating his voice, he said, "Whatever it takes to get you to relax about this."

Through the curtains, Catherine called in her marker. "That's a hundred bucks you owe me, old man!"

In disbelief, Sara asked through the curtain, "You bet him that I would make him go to a sperm bank!"

"I knew you'd want some of the boys on ice after this mess. Oh, and Warrick and I already have money down on how fast you'll have _at least_ twenty pounds off _Gil_."

Before Sara could reply she heard a young man announce, "Transport for Ms. Willows to CT." Relieved to be rid of their eavesdroppers, Sara said, "Good luck."

"If Lindsay arrives while I'm gone, make sure she knows what's going on."

"Okay."

Grissom closed his eyes and tried to take his own advice…relax.

While typing in the last of the patient information in the computer, Nurse Lewis said, "Okay, Sara, I need you to occupy yourself elsewhere for thirty minutes."

"Why can't I stay?"

Grissom, content with the suggestion, did nothing to intervene.

"My professional answer is I believe your husband will do better on this test if he's alone and quiet. Translated into layman's terms, you're making him tense, Honey." And being no dummy, she backed her request with a suggestion. "Why don't you go to the cafeteria and grab something to eat that's high in folic acid? Then get something fattening for dessert because, if you increase your body fat percentage, you'll have a better chance of conceiving. Optimally you should be at eighteen percent and you look like you're hovering around fourteen."

Grissom was ready to hire this crafty nurse to work in the field.

"Is that okay with you, Gr…Gil?" Sara sweetly asked.

"Nurse Lewis makes a good point. Plus, I doubt you've eaten much of anything today." He patted her hand. "I'll be fine."

After pecking his lips, she said, "Think relaxing thoughts. Think about bugs. I'll see you at six."

Once she was gone, Grissom breathed deep. "Thank you for that, Nurse Lewis."

"No problem and, call me Connie," She chuckled. "Okay, we're all set. If you don't nail this the first time, we'll repeat it after you're more hydrated but, for your wife's sake, let's hope the first time is a charm." Patting his shoulder, she warned, "Get in your happy place because you've got five minutes to chill before we start recording."

"Got it." He closed his eyes and let visions of Lepidoptera dance in his head.

**Boulder City Hospital Cafeteria  
5:****31 p.m.**

At Sara's request, Nick walked her to the cafeteria. "I spoke with Ana Silva and told her we would need a couple of hours," He informed her. "The hospital will let us use one of their conference rooms."

Resigned to the fact there was no way out of the deal, Sara told him, "I hate the idea of being on display, but I'm grateful you made the deal and kept the other tape off the air." Her voice filling with skepticism, she commented, "Although, I find it really hard to believe that people are interested in my life with Grissom. Why? We work for the lab at night, and by day we're boring people who rarely leave the house. Or we used to be before this different shift mess. You can't honestly tell me people want to see our story on TV? I mean I know people like those over-exaggerated crime dramas but come on." She gave a hearty laugh.

"Maybe they will make a TV show out of your life." Nick laughed with her. "Can't you see it…Grissom as this brilliant Forensic Scientist leading the team. We get to solve all these really whacked out cases. Because we work in Vegas you know they'd focus on the sex and the freaks."

"And of course, we'd neatly wrap everything up each week in an hour's time."

"Yeah," He found that particularly amusing. "And like Ana Silva would tell you, there has to be a human interest angle, not just us solving crimes. So we would need to include some character development."

"Well then they really need to base it on someone else's life." Sara rolled her eyes, "Because what audience in their right mind would want to watch Grissom and I dance around _not_ having a relationship for five years?"

"They could always center it around Catherine's life."

"Oh, she'd love that!" Sara guffawed.

When they reached the cafeteria, suddenly Sara felt every pair of eyes focus on her. "Nick…is it just me or is everyone…"

"They're staring." He pointed at the TV in the corner of the room. "Look."

When she followed his finger, she saw her own image on the screen.

_We're told more sensitive equipment has arrived which should tell us definitively if anyone is alive under that **horrific** **pile of mortar and brick**. For **newlywed** Sara Grissom's sake…let's hope they hear something. I'm Kent Goodman, and that tape you just watched was shot earlier today at the scene of the Harper House Tragedy. As you know, Gil Grissom was **miraculously** rescued ninety minutes ago. Tune in tonight at ten to see Ana Silva's exclusive interview with reunited newlyweds, Gil and Sara Grissom…two people who help fight crime in this city by night and live a beautiful love story, five years in the making, by day! _

Nick shook with laughter, "Looks like they want you and Grissom to be the stars of the show after all. Poor Catherine…she won't take the news well."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

"**Repercussions – Part 2"**

**Boulder City Hospital (Day 104)  
****Emergency Room  
****5:45 p.m.**

After ten minutes of monitoring, Nurse Lewis ended her patient's EKG and tore off the output strip.

When he opened his eyes, Grissom saw her reviewing the results "So how did I do?"

"I'm not authorized to tell you but, I can let you look at the results…" Handing the tape over, she winked. "…not that you'll know what you're looking at."

Although not a Cardiologist, Grissom was familiar enough to recognize a perfect sinus rhythm when he saw one. "I passed with flying colors, Connie. Even the T waves, which would have shown the impact of electrolyte depletion." Proudly, he returned the strip to her.

"If you say so, Doctor." Before she could warn him not to get too cocky with Dr. Ortiz, the curtain parted.

Dr. Ortiz, a thirty year old Emergency Medicine resident with sun-kissed skin, a Tri-athlete's body and movie-star looks, emerged from behind the curtain. "So, I get to treat the famous Dr. Gil Grissom of the Las Vegas Crime Lab," He announced while walking over to the bed carrying a clipboard.

"That's right," Connie confirmed. She loved working with Dr. Ortiz, and not just for his floppy black hair that screamed, 'run your fingers through me' and rugged, 'I look like I just hiked Mt. Everest before coming to work' appearance, but for his witty bedside manner.

"I was glad to hear you made it out safely." The doctor extended his hand. "I'm Dr. Manny Ortiz."

"Nice to meet you." Grissom couldn't wait for the Doctor to read his strip and give him clearance to fly the coop.

The nurse handed the EKG strip to the doctor. "Hot off the press."

"Thank you, Connie." As he unfurled it, he inquired, "Are you an MD or Ph.D?" He liked to know who he was dealing with before deciding the level on which he would speak.

He scrutinized the doctor studying the EKG results. "Ph.D. Biology and then Entomology."

"That's right, you're the bug man…I remember reading about a really creepy case…some hikers found a body covered in maggots by Lake Mead. I think it was February of this year? You were on TV and your name was all over the place." He snickered to himself. A bonafide academic genius who was most likely a little full of himself…he knew this would be fun.

"March." He bragged, "Because of the decomp, the media suspected it was a gruesome murder and the press was all over it. It ended up being ruled accidental. Guy partied too much, wandered off, got lost and died from splitting his head open on the razor edge of a rock."

"How did you know someone didn't push him?" He asked as he looked up from the EKG.

Amused by the naïve question, he cockily replied, "We have ways of figuring those things out. Just as easily as you can figure out I don't have a cardiac problem from reading my EKG."

Connie's eyes widened and she prepared for the smack down.

"Yeah." The doctor re-folded the strip. "Your EKG looks great."

"You sound surprised," Grissom remarked. "Just because a guy doesn't look like a body builder doesn't mean he's ready to keel over."

Turning her back so her smile wouldn't be seen, Connie waited for Dr. Ortiz to pounce.

"True," the doctor nodded. "Some people are just lucky to be born with a strong heart thanks to good genes. Are your parents still alive, Dr. Grissom?" When he saw the patient's confused expression, he clarified, "It's for the cardiac workup…family history and then lifestyle profile."

"Oh." Reluctantly, and only because Catherine had not returned to her spot on the other side of the curtain, he shared the intimate information. "My mother…she passed away when she was fifty-three in a car accident. She was in great health at the time."

The doctor shook his head as he wrote. "Sorry for the untimely loss."

"Thank you for your sentiment." Grissom was grateful he was no longer connected to the EKG for this painful quiz.

"And your father?"

"I haven't been in contact with my father in many years so, I can't answer the question." The truth was he didn't care since the age of ten and didn't know since the age of eighteen.

"Any hereditary diseases run in your family?"

"The only one I'm aware of is Otosclerosis. My mother went completely deaf from it. I had a stapedectomy almost three years ago."

"And how did that work for you?"

"I'm good as new." Grissom confidently nodded.

"Good…because now I don't have to worry that you can't hear what I'm about to say." Pulling Grissom's lab results off his chart, the doctor flashed a killer smile. "Your cardiogram looked great but, your triglycerides and your cholesterol levels are another story. They're pitiful."

"What!" That's all Sara needed to know.

"Right now you feel fine. Two, three years from now, if you don't lose weight, get in shape and lower these numbers, you could find yourself back in the ER with a serious cardiac episode."

"Those results can't be right!" Certain the hospital's lab was sub par, he snipped, "Let me see those lab results."

"Read 'em and weep," Dr. Oritz gladly handed them over. "A lot can change quickly when you're in your late forties, that's my point. Use this fluke accident that put you in the hospital as a wake up call, Dr. Grissom. You're almost fifty. You can't get away with the same lifestyle you did in your twenties…working long hours, eating junk on the run, not taking care of your body's needs."

Staring at the paper, he wondered if they didn't haphazardly switch his samples with some other guy's.

Pleased with the shocking response he achieved, the doctor continued. "How often do you exercise, Dr. Grissom?"

"My job is physically demanding at times."

"So, can I assume your response means, no _formal _exercise?"

"No, but…"

"But if you happen to get a body covered in maggots at Lake Mead you walk from your car to the body and squat over it for a few hours."

Suddenly this hot shot doc was getting on Grissom's nerves. "Yes. And sometimes there is a lot of lifting."

Not buying the answer, he countered, "And you don't make the less-tenured members of your team do that kind of grunt work while you do the choice stuff? Because, that's how it works in the hospital."

Grissom's eyes narrowed. "_Sometimes_ it works that way in the field."

"So how often would you say you do physically exerting work versus sitting at your desk or leaning over a microscope?"

"I couldn't say." If Connie checked his pulse Grissom was sure it would be hitting ninety.

Dr. Ortiz glanced up. "Am I to assume that means there is a lot less physical stuff and you realize that you hardly get any exercise?"

Irritation creeping further into his voice, he grumbled, "Okay…you got me. I don't exercise."

"Sex counts," The doctor quipped as he began writing again. "Especially if it's _energetic _sex. Want to change your answer?"

"Yes." He boasted, "I partake in vigorous exercise frequently."

"Good for you." He smirked. That was just the answer he needed for the perfect segue.

Connie loved when Manny tossed that one out to the over-40s. Smiling, she counted the seconds to her next favorite question.

While furiously jotting, he casually asked, "Take Viagra?"

Appalled by the insinuation, Grissom barked, "Never!"

Matter-of-factly, Dr. Ortiz informed his boastful patient, "Yeah…you may have to start if we have to put you on cholesterol-reducing drugs. A lot of men experience impotence as a side effect." He waited until that bombshell registered on his distraught patient's face before dropping the next one. "Of course Viagra is contraindicated with certain heart medications so, if you end up requiring any of those, you will most likely be _unable_ to have sex."

As Connie had seen happen many times before, suddenly the patient _listened._

"So what do I have to do to prevent all this from happening?" Grissom frantically asked. "Because all of the above is not an option."

"Oh_ now_ I have your attention?" Dr. Ortiz laughed and rhetorically asked, "Connie, why is it that they only listen to me once I hit them below the belt?"

Grissom pleaded, "You don't understand, my wife is in her sexual prime and we're trying to have a baby."

Connie chimed in, "His wife could also be considered a coronary risk factor for him…she's a bit intense."

"I saw her on TV. She's been the talk of the nurse's station all day," The doctor commented. "Have _you _seen the footage of your wife yet? The one of her breaking down when she thought she lost you?"

Saddened from the thought, he softly replied, "No."

Yanking his prescription pad out of his pocket, the doctor rapidly wrote while talking. "Your numbers are borderline, so I personally wouldn't recommend medication just yet, but you'll need to consult with your primary care physician for a follow up appointment. Before you leave here today, Connie will give you a bunch of information on lifestyle changes and dietary restrictions, as well as a reading list of recommended books on the subject matter."

"Okay." Grissom smelled the coffee. "I'll follow it."

Dr. Ortiz rolled his eyes. "Yeah…that's what everyone _says,_ but only ten percent ever take action when they walk out the door. Sure you'll try for a couple of days but then you'll get swamped at work and poof…everything goes out the window. I know your type. You'll rationalize that the case is more important than your health, blah, blah, blah. So, in an effort to motivate you, I have a prescription for you."

Confused, he queried, "I thought you just said I didn't need medication?"

Waving his pad, the Doctor smiled. "I can prescribe _anything_, not just medication." Tearing off the paper, he handed it to the curious man. "Read it out loud."

"Watch the footage of my wife crying on TV because she thought I was dead." The words rocked him. "That bad?"

"Let's just say that I don't think you'll need any more motivation than that footage to get serious." Dr. Ortiz stood up and gave Connie the chart. "Give him another bolus, while having him eat something, and then prepare him for discharge. He's got a lot of work to do and no time to waste."

"Will do," Connie sighed, as her love for the dashing doctor soared even more. Damn! He's so good _and_ so good looking!

As the doctor was leaving, Sara was entering. "Sorry," She apologized. "I'm anxious to know how my husband's test went. How did it go, Doctor?"

"Confidentially prohibits me from telling you so, you'll have to ask him." The doctor glanced at his penitent patient lying in bed with the 'oh shit, now I have to tell my neurotic wife' look. "Now that you're properly motivated, here's another good tactic for keeping on the straight and narrow…" He pointed at Sara. "An enforcer."

Connie chuckled. "Mrs. Grissom will be great at that!"

**Vancouver, BC  
****Sutton Place Hotel  
****6:07 p.m.**

Jim Brass, looking snazzy in a black suit and eye-catching purple tie, checked his watch for the second time. Seven minutes late…she was playing fashionably late.

"Mr. Brass," Heather cheerily greeted while tapping him on the shoulder from behind. "So sorry I'm late."

As he turned toward her sultry voice, he was titillated to see her in a sophisticated strapless black cocktail dress. "Ms. Duvall, you look stunning," he remarked in a gentlemanly tone. The hot pink shawl she had invitingly draped on her arms roused him even more.

"Really? I just purchased this." With deliberate slowness, she smoothed a hand over the fitted satin bodice. "I don't usually wear black so I wasn't sure if it was a good color for me but, everyone always says you can't go wrong with a little black cocktail dress so…"

"Oh you got it right," He assured her in a husky voice.

"And look at you all handsome in that fantastic suit." Her hands gravitated toward his silk tie. "The knot it's…slightly off."

"Are you adept at tying?" He tried to block the fact that he already knew the answer.

"Quite." Patting the tie, she smiled. "I hope you don't think I'm some sort of control freak just reaching out and having my way with your crooked tie."

"No…every man needs a woman to _take charge_ from time to time." Suddenly desperate for more of her touch, he found himself seconds away from calling out the secret word that would bring the game to an end.

Slipping her arm around his, she sweetly suggested, "Shall we go to dinner?"

Pulling back from the brink, he said, "Our reservation isn't until seven. I thought we could squeeze in a little sight seeing."

"What sights do you want to see?" She asked in her sexiest rasp, hoping he would end the game so they could break into an amorous kiss.

Refusing her bait, he casually replied, "The water of course…because we don't get to see any in Vegas."

"Good…a cool breeze is just what I need."

**Boulder City Hospital  
****Emergency Room  
****6:20 p.m.**

When Connie removed the last EKG lead from Grissom's right ankle, she said, "I need to grab another bolus for you." She glanced at Sara. "Would you pour him another glass of ice water, Dear?"

"Before any more fluids…" Grissom squirmed. "I need to use the facilities."

"That's a good sign that hydration is a success." Connie noted it on her chart. "Do you want me or your wife to accompany you to ensure you don't take a header?"

Taken aback by the invasive request, he groveled, "I don't suppose neither is a choice?" While he and Sara shared a bathroom at home…they never shared it while answering nature's call.

"You've been dizzy since you arrived so, there's not a snowball's chance in hell that I'm letting you walk down the hall and lock the bathroom door without a guardian." Folding her arms across her chest she said, "There is another option, you could use a bedpan like our geriatric patients."

Grissom shot her a look. "You've been working with Dr. Ortiz too long, Connie."

Sensing the couple's discomfort with the idea, she thought she'd push them a little further into reality. "I suggest the two of you get a little more comfortable with each other's bodily functions _before _the pregnancy. Because by the ninth month, Sara, you might need a little help in the bathroom and, when you're in that delivery room, he's going to see a lot more than just a baby flying out of you. Afterwards, you will need help and god forbid you have a c-section, you may have to ask him to wipe your…"

"Okay!" Sara shrieked. "Remember the news report…it took us five years just to get up the courage to tell each other our true feelings. Hell, I just started calling him by his first name an hour ago."

Connie stared at the quirky couple. "I find the two of you strangely endearing."

"Come on." Taking her husband's hand, Sara eased him out of bed. "Connie, could we have another gown to cover the flip side?" She whispered in Grissom's ear, "We don't want anyone else enjoying the show."

"Sure." She tossed another one on the bed then finished stowing her equipment. When she shut the last drawer on the EKG cart, Connie hustled to the curtain exit. "Okay, lovebirds, I'll be back in five. Remember…only use the restroom for business, not pleasure."

"Thank you, Sara," Grissom replied while teetering and letting her slip the second gown on him as a robe. "I didn't think to ask for an extra the last time I…."

"Well, _Gil_, if you had told me about your ear surgery, I could have saved you a year's worth of crap from Catherine. She wouldn't have had to have been there at all if I was there." Reaching, she pulled open the curtain and slowly led him down the hall. "Speaking of not telling me something…why do I feel like the doctor told you something besides, _your EKG looks_ great? Did he tell you something about your hearing?"

"No he…"

Convinced she was onto him, she needled, "Who heard the taps for the first time when you were in the basement? You or Catherine?" She never bought that his ENT canceled his last appointment.

"Catherine but…"

"How long after she regained consciousness?"

"Shortly after. I remember checking my watch, it was a little before nine." The pee shivers were coming on strong. "Could we talk about this later?"

Sara stopped midway to the restroom. "They did a tap test at eight-thirty. Catherine was unconscious and you didn't hear it."

Shaking his head and desperate to relieve himself, " He hurriedly explained, "I was a little preoccupied worrying whether Catherine was in a coma or dying. Trust me…there's nothing wrong with my hearing but, if we don't get to the bathroom soon everyone will think I have a bladder problem."

Just as Sara was about to continue the journey, a frail elderly lady in a powder-blue bathrobe approached smiling. "You're Sara and Gil Grissom."

Not used to notoriety, they exchanged glances.

Extending her hand the concerned citizen rested it on Sara's forearm. "Sweetie, when I saw you on TV bawling your eyes out, I started crying right along with you. I was so happy to hear about the rescue." She turned her focus to Grissom. "You must have been anxious to get back to your wife's arms and…."

Dying to pee, he cut her off. "It will all be on the KTBC ten o'clock news. Now, we really have to go."

Feeling her husband was a bit gruff to the sweet lady, Sara felt compelled to clarify. "I'm sorry. We were on our way to the restroom."

"Kids…" The eighty year old laughed. "Just wait…bladder control can be a real bitch when you get old. Last week I had to start buying incontinence diapers for my husband. He fights with me every time I have to put one on him. I'll tell you, when I said 'for better or worse' fifty-five years ago, I never thought of that scenario!" Smiling, she slowly shuffled by. "Best of luck to you both."

"Uh…thanks." Sara gently tugged on Grissom's arm to continue on to the bathroom. Suddenly this upcoming situation didn't seem all that uncomfortable.

Without making eye contact at his wife, he said, "Let's forget everything she …"

"Shhhh…I've already blocked it."

"Grissom!" Lindsay shouted from the end of the hall as she broke away from her caregiver's hand. "Where's my mom!" She rushed to the side of the familiar man. "She's not where she's supposed to be."

"Hi Lindsay," He smiled, temporarily forgetting his urgent biological need. "They took her for some tests. She should be back shortly."

Sara added what Lindsay really needed to hear. "She's doing fine and she can't wait to see you."

A second later, Warrick's voice rang out from down the hall. "Yo! Lindsay!"

"There they are!" She took off running toward her mom on a stretcher. "Mom!"

Grissom and Sara enjoyed watching the happy reunion until nature called…no…shouted.

"Sara, we really…"

"Got it!" Letting go of him, she rushed a few feet away to open the door. "Okay…" Then she noticed he was staggering and reaching out for the wall. "Sorry!" She caught him just in time.

"Maybe I should have picked Connie," he griped as his wife guided him into the restroom. "Lock the…"

"Already did." After steering him to the bowl, she teased. "Think you'll get stage fright?"

"Not after a rapid IV infusion and two pitchers of ice water, Honey."

"Um…do you need me to…"

"No!" He assured her. "I can take it from here." Placing one hand on the wall for balance, he took care of business.

Standing behind her husband just in case he got lightheaded, Sara eventually remarked, "Wow…how many bags of fluid did they give you?"

"Shh…guys don't talk while peeing." When he was finally done, he dropped his gown and joked, "So…am I going to get a little symmetry here?"

"Nope," Sara informed him while helping him to the sink. "I went during your EKG."

"Another time perhaps," He joked, before leaning over and rinsing his still dusty hair, face and neck.

Grabbing some paper towels from the dispenser, Sara placed them in his hand. "Feel better?"

"Much." While he patted himself dry, he teetered a bit but found safety in Sara's arms. "This is nice," He quietly remarked.

In a chuckle, she replied, "Hanging out in the hospital bathroom together?" Carefully she backed him up until he was standing against the wall and then reached for another bunch of paper towels. "You still have dirt on your face."

"It's nice having someone to lean on…literally and figuratively." With loving eyes, he watched her dampen the towels. "After my ear surgery, I took a cab home and could barely get to the door. When I finally made it to the couch I ended up staying there half a day as I was too dizzy to get up and walk. I was desperate for something to drink but..." As she wiped the streaks of dirt from his face, his voice softened. "It's good to know I'm not alone anymore."

"No…you're not, because we're stuck with each other for the long haul." She tossed the towels and held up her left hand, waving it to show off her wedding band. "In _sickness and in health_, remember? As long as we both shall live. " Penetrating his emotional eyes with hers, she whispered, "Now that you've been reminded that I'm here _no matter what_…now that I've helped you use the bathroom…and now that you understand, if you had been seriously injured today and I was required to help you for the rest of your life, I would…is there something you want to tell me?"

"Yes."

Taking both his hands, she said, "Then tell me."

Finally comfortable enough, he confessed. "My EKG was fine but my lab results showed elevated cholesterol and triglyceride levels, which I've never had until now. The doctor said if I don't make some lifestyle changes, I'm putting myself at risk for a cardiac episode in the future." He saw the concern flaming in her eyes and doused it with words. "Please don't worry. I'm not in any immediate danger. The doctor said I have _plenty_ of time to turn things around but, I need some support." Suddenly he smiled. "I need someone to kick my ass about this. Are you interested in the job?"

"I think I could get into it." Pushing past her initial stressful reaction, she returned his smile. "It's very symmetrical that you'll be losing weight and getting in shape while I'm gaining weight and losing my shape while pregnant." She moved in to kiss him.

"Wait." A tense laugh tumbled out of his mouth. "Apparently there is a bit of Catholic guilt left in me, because I feel compelled to confess something else to you."

"What?"

On a roll, he tossed it right out. "The ENT's office didn't cancel my last hearing test. I skipped the appointment."

"I knew it!" Releasing his hands, she rammed her index finger in his chest. "Now tell me why you keep avoiding it."

"Because…"

Practicing her role of 'ass-kicker; she barked, "Spill it!"

"Because at my last check they said I had a_ miniscule_ loss. I've been putting off finding out if it got worse."

"You _lied _to me?" She hated the thought of him not being truthful even if he was scared.

"No…I just didn't tell you."

"Oh, okay Mr. Logic. So I guess if I go out and sleep with ten guys, as long as I don't tell you, I'm not being dishonest with you?"

"Point taken."

"Uh huh." Eyeing him suspiciously, she snipped, "Anything else you want to tell me?"

"Just one thing." Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close. "I love you. There…now all my cards are on the table."

"Nice try." Her irritation dissipated as he held her. "Only because you almost died today am I letting you off the hook this easily."

Connie's voice accompanied by a forceful knock brought the loving moment to a halt. "I said_ business_, not pleasure. I know the doc told you to exercise more but he didn't mean here! There's a line forming outside the door."

**Vancouver, BC  
****6:47 p.m.**

Standing in front of the Le Gavroche restaurant, Heather read the words off a small plaque, "Voted Best Place to Kiss in the Pacific Northwest by Romantic Hideways."

"Shocking!" Brass moved closer to take a look. "I had no idea it was famous for something when I made the reservation."

Only six inches away from her playmate, Heather decided to announce, "A kiss is a method of analyzing if a mate will be able to effectively stimulate the pleasure centers in the brain."

"Really?" He stepped into the conversation. "What else do you know about the subject?"

After running her tongue over her fuschia lips, she told him, "A kiss incorporates the senses of touch, taste and smell and sends a powerful signal to the brain."

"What kind of signal?" He inquired while staring at her mouth.

"Sometime it signals, _yes,_ I want more, and sometimes it unfortunately sends a signal saying, that was plenty and I don't _ever_ need another sample again."

"I'm not sure I believe that." Reaching out he swept her hair off her face, lingering his hand on her cheek before removing it. "Quite a breeze building up."

"Among other things." Bringing her face directly in front of his, she murmured, "What signal do you think you'd get if you kissed me?"

Unsure of the answer, he captured her lips and ran the experiment.

**Boulder City Hospital  
****Emergency Room  
****6:52 p.m.**

Lindsay sat on the edge of her mother's bed, holding her hand and continuing her line of questions. "How long will you have to wear that neck brace?"

"Hopefully I'll be able to toss it after the doctor comes and give me a clean bill of health." Flighty from the Vicodin she was given for the lump on her head, Catherine said, "Because I don't like being controlled by this neck brace or anything or anyone for that matter."

From the other side of the curtain, Grissom, felt compelled to yell, "Isn't your controlling nature what caused you to get knocked in the head in the first place?"

"How long are you going to throw that in my face?" She groaned.

Before Grissom could answer, he heard Nick's voice beyond the curtain. "Hey there, TV stars. We're set to tape your interview for KTBC's ten o'clock news at eight."

Catherine once again protested. "You really expect me to go on camera looking like I spent the day at the bottom of a rubble pit!"

Nick laughed. "Considering the context of the interview it makes more sense than having you dressed in an evening gown. I'll be back soon."

"We get to be on TV!" Lindsay shrilled with excitement. "Awesome! I have to call my friends!"

"No. _You_ don't get to be on TV, just me," Catherine corrected.

Grissom made a kind offering. "She can have my place!"

"That's not the point, Gil!" Catherine explained, "I don't want my little girl's emotions exploited on television."

Lindsay looked to Warrick. "See! Here she goes again! She never lets me do anything fun! Being on TV is _way more cool_ than going camping. Anyone can go camping but TV, that's special!"

Warrick stared at Catherine, attempting to communicate with his eyes while she and Lindsay kept sparring.

Meanwhile, Sara breezed into her husband's cubicle with a take-out container from the hospital cafeteria. "Who ordered the heart-healthy meal?" Grinning, she plopped on the edge of the bed and set the box on the side table. When he didn't immediately acknowledge her, she teased, "Did you _hear _what I said, Gil?"

"Yeah…the ass-kicking has begun."

Grinning she popped open the container. "Lean turkey on grain with low-fat mayo and some carrot sticks."

"_You _are serving me meat?" He suspiciously eyed the sandwich. "This isn't tofu disguised as meat?"

"I said I would make you a hamburger, and you know I_ always_ keep my promises. But now you can't eat a greasy burger so…" She positioned the moveable table over his bed. "…you get a turkey sandwich."

Starving, he grabbed half and brought it to his mouth without uttering a word.

Watching her carnivorous mate chow down, Sara delivered the good news. "On my way to the cafeteria, I was reading the dietary recommendations Connie left for you. Because I don't want to make this any harder on you than it already will be and, since lean protein is a major component of your dietary plan, I'm amending the kitchen meat rule. If it's meat from a creature with wings, it's allowed."

"So certain bugs are acceptable?" He cackled while lunging for the remaining half of his sandwich.

"Technically yes, but don't expect to see me making stir-fried crickets."

"MOM!" Linsday shrieked. "I know what's really going on here! You don't want me on TV with you because you're afraid people will think you're _old_ if you have a thirteen year-old daughter!"

Sara and Grissom stared at the white cotton wall.

"NO!" Catherine boomed. "I think the only reason you want to be on TV is to impress those boys I heard you and your friends talking about the other day."

"You_ listened_ to us talking!"

Sara leaned over, whispering, "Are you sure you don't want a boy?"

"Enough!" Warrick called as he held his head. "Didn't the two of you learn_ anything_ from this experience today? Isn't the whole point of the interview to show **_happy_** reunions of loved ones! Fifteen minutes after crying because you thought you'd never see each other again, you're right back where you were…at each other's throats. I've had it…the two of you can't compromise, so I will." Turning to Lindsay, he said, "You can be in the interview **_but, _**you don't say anything unless asked and, you don't use the opportunity to flirt with the boys from your school. Got it? If you don't follow my guidelines, no softball camp next week. Understand!"

"Yessssssss!" Lindsay threw her arms around Warrick. "You're the best!"

Catherine sighed, "Okay, fine. You can be on TV, Lindsay."

Sara snatched one of Grissom's carrot sticks. "Warrick's good at the parent thing."

"Someone has to be the grown-up in that family," Grissom commented after wiping his face with a napkin.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**"Repercussions – Part 3"**

**August 4, 2005 (Day 104)  
****Boulder City Hospital  
****Emergency Room  
****7:02 p.m.**

Nurse Tonya Bennett poked her head through the curtains of Catherine's ER cubicle with good news. "Dr. Ortiz will be here momentarily to go over your CT results."

"Thank god!" She pawed at her neck brace. "I feel like I'm one step away from a straight jacket in this thing."

Warrick checked his watch and said, "How about I take Lindsay to the cafeteria for some dinner and give you some privacy with the doctor?"

Lindsay once again agreed with the rational man's thinking. "Good idea because I'm starving!"

After brushing back her hair and planting a kiss on Catherine's forehead, Warrick asked, "Can I bring you something, Baby?"

"Something light…like a muffin." Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Thanks for ending the squabble with Lindsay. And don't forget, we still have to talk about me selling the house."

"No rush. Swing is covering for Graveyard tonight so I have until tomorrow's shift before I have to go in." He kissed her uncharacteristically dry and un-lipsticked lips. "You want us to stop at the gift shop and get you lip gloss for your TV spot?"

"Yeah." She loved having someone in her life thinking about the little things. As she watched him pull away and stand up, she said, "Don't take too long."

"Definitely not." Warrick pulled back the curtain. "Okay, Linds, let's grab some grub. And I want to hear all about your day at Softball Camp."

As she followed him, Lindsay enthusiastically relayed the details. "Coach Dan told me I did great today! I can't wait to show you my fast pitch. Do you think we'll have time when we get home?"

Alone and bored and still buzzing from her painkiller, Catherine shouted next door. "What are you two doing, because it's been awfully quiet over there?"

Sara came back with an answer she knew would put a smile on the frustrated patient's face. "Then you know we're not having sex because we're into loud lovin'."

Catherine's laughter confirmed Sara's success.

Grissom was quick to add. "We're reading…our_ other_ favorite pastime."

Which reminded Catherine of something she meant to tell Warrick to bring her. "Damn…I wanted a trashy celebrity gossip magazine."

Since she was without reading material she occupied herself the only other way a woman confined to bed wearing a restrictive neck brace could…she annoyed her neighbors. "Remember when you were alone in the hospital in Tahoe, Sara? I bought you that gossipy magazine to take your mind off the fact that Gil abandoned you there even though you almost died earlier that day." She swore she heard Grissom's eyes rolling from six feet away. "Did it help keep your mind off your breaking heart?"

Sara's voice boomed back. "Sorry to disappoint you, Troublemaker, but the statute of limitations on Tahoe ended the day I married _Gil_."

Grissom looked up from his pamphlet on the dangers of high cholesterol and smiled at his wife who was sitting in a chair next to the bed with her head buried in a booklet on the damage emotional stress does to the body. Tossing his reading material aside, he reached out and took his wife's right hand, yanking her towards the bed.

Leaving her pamphlet behind on her chair and careful not to disturb the IV tubes in her husband's right arm, Sara, cozily settled down next to him on the left.

"Thank you for that," He whispered in her ear so Catherine wouldn't know that Sara's revelation was new to him too.

"You know what I just realized?" She softly said in his ear as she snuggled against him. "Our twenty-hour kiss ran out at six o'clock and this sexy hospital gown you're wearing is driving me wild. Is your whistle finally wet enough to give me a new one?"

"Only one way to find out," He replied while grazing her lips with his. Moments later he learned that a kiss shared after discovering your wife has forgiven your biggest blunder is very freeing…and one that must be followed up by several more equally liberating smooches.

"Hello, Ms. Willows, I'm Dr. Ortiz. It's a pleasure to meet one of Vegas' finest female crime fighters."

The words on the other side of the curtain didn't disturb the psychologically emancipated newlyweds who were finding their first foray at stealthy amour in a public place surprisingly exhilarating.

"What's up, Doc?" Catherine purred as she took in the beauty and the brawn of the perfect male specimen leaning over her. "If you need to do a full physical, don't worry, I'll cooperate."

Those last words, however, snapped Sara out of her passionate mood. "Is she flirting with the doctor?" Sara breathlessly whispered in her husband's ear. "Did you hear her? Her tone? She is!"

"What?" He hadn't heard a thing. It had nothing to do with faulty ears but rather a preoccupation with his forgiving wife and her warm body pressed against him.

"Shh…listen."

"Ms Willows, your chart says you are forty-two but, looking at you, that can't be right. It's obvious that the nurse meant thirty-two."

Catherine's delighted giggle permeated the air.

Sara rolled her eyes. "They _are_ flirting."

Grissom, who was trying to care about what his wife was saying while wishing she would stop talking, replied, "I think you're misinterpreting…"

"So Doc, how often do you work out?"

"Six days a week…running, swimming,_ pumping_ iron. I compete in triathlons."

"Uh huh…believe me, it shows, Honey."

"I do take pride in my physical fitness because as a medical professional, I believe I should walk the walk. How can I counsel patients to get in shape if I'm not? Thank you for noticing."

"I'm a Criminalist, it's my job to be observant." Her voice shifted lower. "And a guy like you makes my job a pleasure."

In a hushed voice, Sara asked her husband. "Do you believe me _now_? Warrick is in the cafeteria parenting her child while she_ flirts _with another man! It's killing me to hear this."

Quietly he explained, "Flirting to Catherine is like breathing…she does it without thinking. She's not trying to pick up the guy."

"It says on your chart you're single, Ms. Willows."

"Now how is that relevant to my medical condition?" She chuckled wildly. "Or are you asking for another reason?"

"Busted…I was curious how a woman as gorgeous as you could stay single."

Like a cat in heat she meowed her answer. "It takes a lot of man to satisfy me and there are so few men up to the challenge."

Flushed with irritation, Sara heatedly whispered, "Don't you think by now she should have clarified she's _with_ someone?"

"Would you consider giving me a shot, Ms. Willows?" The doctor optimistically asked.

Grissom placed his hand over his wife's mouth to prevent her from screaming prematurely. "Give her a chance."

"Sorry, Doc, I'm in a relationship."

"My loss. I guess I'll have to settle for treating you professionally."

Grissom removed his hand. "See."

"Unbelievable," Sara sighed. "She was stringing him along just to get him to ask her out so she could turn him down. Why play games when she has someone who cares about her? She's asking for trouble."

In his wife's ear, Grissom explained, "The attention she gets from men has always boosted her self-esteem. You know her story. It's been her addiction since she was a teenager and certainly since I've known her. Old habits die hard. It's not correlated to her feelings for Warrick. Trust me…he's aware of the issue."

Still uncomfortable, Sara whispered, "She's lucky Warrick is a patient man. Some men if they heard their wife flirting with a stranger would..." Her words stopped as she fought not to slip back into a painful childhood memory.

He knew the haunted look in her eyes. "Sara, I know why this is affecting you so strongly. I know because I understand you and I'm aware of your family history. I think Warrick understands Catherine and because he does, he's able to filter her actions. Once someone understands their partner's motivations, it's a lot easier to comprehend their behavior no matter how irrational, right? Isn't that why you've forgiven me about Tahoe?"

His words brought to mind a quote and she recited it. "If you want to understand today, you have to search yesterday."

"Pearl S. Buck."

"Ugh. Will I ever stump you?"

"Don't stop trying." He smoothed her hair as he stared into her glassy eyes. "You know what else Pearl S. Buck said…The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart."

"Thanks for answering mine." She grinned.

"Thanks for calling so many times."

They sweetly chuckled together and then Grissom, in the mood to feel superior at _something_ today after feeling humiliated about his lackluster lab results, said, "I know one more of her quotes, do you?"

After ferreting through the wealth of knowledge in her brain she admitted, "I'm tapped."

"You cannot make yourself feel something you do not feel, but you can make yourself do right in spite of your feelings."

Sara heaved a heavy sigh. "That quote reminds me of Greg. When the accident happened I totally forgot about him and Tawny. I hope he's okay. I wonder if he even talked to her today."

**Greg's Apartment**

**7:20 p.m.**

As Tawny, still dressed from her shift at the Cheesecake Factory, stepped inside Greg's one-bedroom apartment, the realization hit her. "In the weeks we've been together, you came to my place every day. You never invited me to yours."

"Uh…"

It wasn't the first time a guy excluded her from seeing his place. She knew since Greg wasn't married or in a relationship that wasn't his motivation for keeping her out. So it had to be the other common reason…he didn't really want her in his life. This invitation tonight was obligatory because of the baby.

Greg jittered about the living/dining area and kitchen turning on lights. "Well you can see why I didn't have you over, can't you? It's pretty sparse…just state-of-the-art electronics, thousands of CDs and DVDS, and a few pieces of furniture. A typical bachelor pad. Not much in my kitchen except gourmet coffee and booze. Your place is much more comfortable for hanging out." He hoped she bought the story.

"It's okay, Greg." Dropping her faux Kate Spade floral purse on the floor, she took a seat on his black leather couch. "Let's not pretend that we had some great romance. We've never even had a real date." Nervously tapping her candy apple red nails on the leather, she said with resignation, "You met me in a strip club and you came to my apartment every day for a booty call. You were nice to me and brought me breakfast…a pretty good deal for a girl like me. You're cute and funny and you hung around after instead of bolting after using the bathroom. Above all, you were always sweet to me. After getting knocked around enough in my life I…"

His arms crossed, Greg leaned against a white living room wall staring at the floor.

"…what I'm saying is…I was happy to have you keep coming back so, don't feel guilty. You treated me _way _better than guys who actually took me out on dates. Probably because they felt like I owed them something."

"Tawny, I…" Then he saw the emotion on her face and lost his words.

"It's okay. I know what I am, Greg. I didn't start out this way but I know what I've become. I'm a stripper with a grade-A boob job who has spent years shaking her ass in perverts' faces for money. Hell, I even tried to get your boss in the VIP room. I have no right to expect a nice, educated guy like you to bring me home and treat me with respect." Her words started catching on the lump in her throat. "It must make you sick to think of your child having me for a mother. No wonder you asked about terminating the pregnancy."

It was an impossible situation and he didn't know how to respond. Everything she was saying he had indeed thought. Yet…he wanted her to know it wasn't true, but if he said it wasn't true she would know he was lying. The last thing she needed in her life was another lie from another guy. And just when he thought the situation couldn't get more tortuous, Tawny presented an unexpected option.

Tears began streaming down her cheeks. "I'll do it for you, Greg, because you've been so nice to me. You really are a great guy…you offered to take care of me and let me move in. But, even though it would be the sweetest deal I've had since I was little girl, I won't ruin your life." Wiping her tears with the sleeve of her white Cheesecake Factory uniform shirt, she gasped for air. "What difference does it make if I do one more terrible thing in my life, right? How much worse could it make me feel about myself? It's not like it will hurt my reputation. Maybe it will even help because for once, I'll be able to prove I'm not just out to trap a guy for his money. If you promise you'll go with me to…to do it…I'll call the clinic tomorrow and make an appointment."

All he had to say was _okay_ and the nightmare would end. Or would it? Maybe instead of ending, a couple of new ones would begin. It wasn't something they could try and then decide wasn't a good option. But neither was parenthood.

For the first time, he really looked at Tawny…looked into her eyes…peered into her soul. And while he was there gaping at her, he heard Grissom's words again… _I doubt many girls dream of her life. She's at a place a girl ends up when dreams don't pan out. If given the right circumstances and a few breaks from someone who cares, Tawny may be capable of much more than you know._

Suddenly the decision was crystal clear. "Tawny, I…I don't know if we can make this work between us as a couple but, there is one thing I do know...if I asked you to do something that would destroy another piece of you…what little there is left of your spirit…I couldn't live with myself. Don't call for an appointment." Quickly, he crossed the room and sat beside her, taking her hands. "And just so we're clear, it's not guilt that's driving me, it's responsibility. I want you to move in so I can take responsibility for what I created just as much as you did…this situation…this baby."

She would have bet a million dollars he would jump at the opportunity she presented, so his unanticipated opposite reaction left her stunned. "Really?"

"Really." Standing up, he pulled her to her feet. "Come on, I'll show you where the bathroom is so you can splash some cold water on your face."

"Greg…"

He froze in the hallway, fearing she would blurt those same three words she said earlier on the phone but instead, she said five different ones in the most grateful tone he ever heard.

"Thanks for caring about me." Once again her eyes were overflowing. "I'm not used to anyone caring."

Pulling her in his arms, he soothed, "You'll get used to it."

**Vancouver  
****Le Gavroche  
****7:40 p.m.**

As he filled his date's wine glass with more Pinot Noir, Brass casually asked, "So, Ms. Duvall, what do you do for a living?"

"Please…call me Heather." Demurely she lowered her wine glass. "After the intense kiss we shared, I think we should be on a first name basis, don't you?"

"Yes,_ Heather_…the kiss was intense." He returned the wine bottle to the bucket.

"So, you want to know what I do for a living?"

"I'm curious, yes." He raised his glass anticipating she would say librarian.

"I started out as a personal trainer and now I'm a life coach who manages a very successful…training center."

He struggled not to spit out the sip of Pinot Noir he had just taken and when he finally swallowed it, he said, "So people come to you and you whip them into shape?"

"Not at all." Coiling her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, she explained, "It's not that simple I'm afraid. First we must identify a client's fitness goals, because most of the time clients arrive without knowing what it is they are trying to achieve. Once the identification process is complete, we gently guide them toward the identified goals using various motivational techniques and state of the art equipment. Once a client's goals are actualized, we may never see them again, but many return regularly for refresher courses or because they have transgressed and feel they need…a pep talk."

"Fascinating explanation." He paused to enjoy his wine and her smile. "What spurred your interest in the field?"

"A confluence of events actually." She shook her head as she lifted her wine glass. "It's not a story a woman tells on a first date if she wants her date to stay." When she finished her sip, she firmly planted the glass on the white linen tablecloth.

"Now I'm very intrigued." Reaching across the table, he placed his hand on hers. "I promise I won't end the date early, because I'm really looking forward to my Halibut."

A smile spread over her face and she boldly told the tale. "Very well then…because I know you're a sure thing. When I was nineteen and in college I found out I was pregnant. My boyfriend and I immediately married even though we were a horrible match. He felt I was too independent and kept trying to control me. One day, shortly after my daughter Zoe's second birthday, he tried a little too hard and I exercised a little self-empowerment. While my soon to be ex-husband was at the hospital being stitched, I packed and moved to Vegas with my daughter in tow. A woman in our apartment complex worked as a personal trainer and told me how good the money was so I applied and was hired on the spot because the owner of the training facility felt I had the right background and personal experience for the job. Within a year I was the most sought after trainer in the business and five years later, when the owner retired, I bought her out and expanded the facility and the services offered. A few years ago I forged into a new domain…coaching via the Internet. Today my business is the most lucrative of its kind."

Brass raised his glass to her. "To you, my lady…another soul who has managed to live out the American Capitalist's dream…financial success from nothing, achieved through the unquenchable desire to persevere in the face of adversity and…you did it while helping those in dire need. You're so close to sainthood I almost feel guilty about the heated kiss we shared."

Clinking her glass to his, she grinned uncontrollably. "So now it's your turn. What do you do for a living, Jim?"

"I'm a shoe salesman."

Her laughter overpowered the romantic tranquility of the room.

Brass sighed as he lowered his shoulders. "No one respects a good shoe salesman these days."

"Did you choose your profession because you have a foot fetish? I've heard of people with kinky habits like that."

"I'm just yanking your chain." Grabbing the bottle of wine, he refilled their glasses. "I'm an actor. I play a Crime Lab Director on a TV drama. Perhaps you've heard of it? Cool Cops and the Nerdy Lab Rats Who Help Them?"

"I'm afraid I haven't caught it. Is it by chance on at the same time as The Apprentice, because that's my favorite show? You'll have to tell me about it."

He gladly indulged her. "Well, I'm the star of course. Although the lab rats would like to think forensic science is why people tune in. As if! Everyone knows they watch for my character's witty one liners. Anyway, the cast of characters is truly colorful…"

**Boulder City Hospital**

**Conference Room**

**7:54 p.m.**

Redressed in the blue pants and white v-neck white t-shirt he had on under his coveralls earlier today, Grissom emerged from the hospital bathroom.

Leaning against the wall in the hallway, Sara asked, "Did you miss me when you were in there all alone?"

"No comment."

"Prepping for your TV interview already, huh?" She unfurled his beige button-down shirt that had been tied around her waist. "Sorry…but I don't think you'll want to put this on. It's covered in tear stains and miscellaneous slobber. Completely overrun with my DNA I'm afraid."

He remembered the doctor's prescription…_watch the footage of my wife crying on TV because she thought I was dead._ "Sara, I want you to know that…"

"There they are!" Ana Silva strutted over with her trusty cameraman, Ed, on her heels. "Mr. and Mrs. Happily Ever After!" Forcefully shaking the man's hand, she introduced herself. "Gil Grissom, Ana Silva, KTBC. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Your wife told me so many wonderful things about you."

Unimpressed by the flamboyant woman, he droned, "As I understand it, the only reason we're doing this interview is because my wife told you so many things about me."

Sara eyed the invasive reporter with contempt. "You exploited me when I was under duress!"

Ana found the accusation amusing. "No…I captured the news on film when it was presented to me. It's my job. I don't tell you how to catch killers…you don't tell me how to get a story. Okay then, let's hustle to the conference room. I've been told everyone else will be there within ten minutes."

Sara and Grissom trailed behind the hyper reporter, choking on the scent of her cheap perfume.

"She even smells phony," Grissom remarked as they turned the corner to get to the conference room. "That's faux Chanel No. 5."

"Noooo, it's faux Chanel No. 19. I distinctively remember that scent from the case at Caesar's with the woman in tub…."

"Sorry, the case at Caesar's was Chanel No. 5. The whole bathroom suite reeked of it."

"Wrong!" Sara huffed with delight at her husband's mistake. "You're confusing the case at Caesar's with the case at Bally's…the woman had…"

"Noooo…_you_ are confusing them."

When they stepped inside the conference room, Sara shouted across the room. "Hey, News Diva, that perfume you're wearing, what's it a knockoff of?"

"Chanel No. 19."

"HA!" Sara jumped for joy. "I'm right and you're wrong!"

Grissom lowered his head in shame. "I don't believe it."

Sara was more than happy to fill in the blanks. "Chanel No. 5 is floral, Chanel 19 is floral green, while it has jasmine, rose, iris and ylang ylang like No. 5, it also has bergamot, vetiver and sandalwood. The case at Caesar's had the dead woman in the tub, the perfume in the bath water and the bottle intact. The case at Bally's had the dead woman in the tub, the perfume bottle broken and the glass was used to slit her wrists."

Now he remembered. "Both had drowning as primary COD both unnatural MNDs, Caesar's ruled accidental, Bally's first thought to be suicide but then we changed it to homicide. The killer thought if he slit the girl's wrists after he drowned her it would look like she killed herself. As if we wouldn't catch that…the absence of test lacerations and the angle of the wounds alone gave it away."

Ed glanced at Ana. "Those two are your _romantic _couple? They're geeks! This is going to be the most boring interview of the century. What the hell is vetiver? Who knows that?"

"Have you been rolling tape on them?"

"Since they walked in the door."

"Keep shooting." Ana lurked in the far corner of the room. "Sara, what's vetiver?"

"Vetiver is a grass of tropical India cultivated for its aromatic roots that yield oil popular in perfume."

"It's not limited to India," Grissom corrected, "It can also be found in Japan, Indonesia and Sri Lanka where they refer to it as the oil of tranquility."

"Thanks." Ana motioned for her cameraman to follow her. "Ed and I will be back in a few."

Sara and Grissom fell silent until the newshounds left the room and closed the door.

"I can't believe you got the perfume wrong!" Sara revisited her victory. "I should have bet you."

"Too late." He slipped his arms around her waist. "I can't believe I confused those cases." Depressed, he sighed, "Maybe I should be tested for Alzheimer's too."

His comment put her in stitches. "You confuse cases for the first time in decades and you're worried you're losing your memory!" Caressing his cheek, she said, "Honey, you really are feeling blue about your blood work and your hearing test, aren't you?"

"It feels like I'm suddenly falling apart at the seams."

Maybe this will cheer you up." She gently pressed her lips to his then covered his mouth in a velvety kiss. When she finally broke the kiss, she murmured, "No matter what obstacles life throws our way, you'll always be the only man for me, Gil."

In a deep, sensual tone, he replied, "Then I'm the luckiest man alive, Sara. I love you."

"I love you too."

When the conference room door opened, the newlyweds quickly separated.

Ana and Ed entered accompanied by Hank Peddigrew.

"What's Hank doing here?" Sara asked in a surprised tone.

"He's the Rescue Hero," Ana informed her. "Hey, don't you think your tone is a little snarky considering the man saved your husband's life?"

Hank laughed. "Sara's my ex-girlfriend."

"What!" Ana, beaming with excitement, turned to Ed. "The ex-boyfriend saved her husband! Is my Karma great today or what!"

"Don't give her _more _information, Peddigrew!" Sara blasted.

Ana whisked him off to the corner of the room.

In Sara's ear, Grissom whispered, "Too bad Brass is indisposed. He'd love this."

"Yeah, Brass would be giving Ana plenty of fodder," She quipped. "And then Lady Heather could walk through the door and the News Diva would have enough for a documentary."

"Shouldn't the statute of limitations be up on Lady Heather since that was years before Tahoe?" He asked in a hopeful tone.

Being a reasonable woman, Sara replied, "Yeah…the day she apologizes to me for being such a ruthless bitch, I'll drop it."

Grissom knew the odds of that happening were the same as Ana Silva saying, _that's just too personal to exploit on camera. _

"Okay, Ms. Silva," Nick called out as he walked through the door. "Here's your other exclusive." Catherine breezed into the room looking fresh as a daisy, with perfect make up and hair, followed by Lindsay and Warrick. "This is Catherine Willows, a valued member of Grissom's team. She was trapped in the building with him the whole time but we kept it hush to protect her daughter, Lindsay."

Ana Silva looked to the heavens, where she was sure her guardian angel was taking care of business. "Thank you!" She rushed over. "Ms. Willows, you clean up well."

"Thank you." Immediately Catherine began to compare herself to the twenty-something News goddess. Are her boobs perkier? Are her lips fuller?

"I'm Lindsay," The excited teenager waved. "Can you make sure my mom doesn't hog the screen when we're filming because I called all my friends and told them I'd be on TV later."

"Sure Sweetie," Ana condescended. Then she looked to the fine specimen standing in silence. "Who are you?"

"Warrick Brown." He extended his hand. "I'm…"

"You're perfect to hook the minority demographic!" Ana squealed with delight. "Now if only there was a Hispanic character in this story."

"This isn't a _story _and we're not_ characters_," Sara barked. "We're real people and our private lives shouldn't be sacrificed to give you air time."

Ana raised her brow at the headstrong woman. "Would be nice if the world worked that way but it doesn't, Mrs. G."

"Mrs. G?" Sara shook her head.

"Sorry I'm late." The doctor strolled into the room grinning like a movie star. "I'm Dr. Manuel Ortiz, the physician who treated the victims."

"Oy Dios Mio!" Ana pinched herself to make sure it wasn't a dream….a hunky Hispanic doctor. It was all coming together. "Okay, I need Gil and Sara over here." She pointed to two chairs and one microphone. "Then Ms. Willows and her family over here." She gestured to the second microphone. "And then the doctor and the rescuer in the middle along with Mr. Stokes, the Director of the Crime Lab."

"What?" Grissom gaped at Nick. "You promoted yourself for TV?"

"That's _Acting_ _Assistant_ Director of the Crime Lab," He corrected while enjoying the misunderstanding. "But now that I heard her say it the other way, I know what I want to be when I grow up and, let's face it Gris, you don't want the job."

"Okay people!" She clapped to get their attention. "First some business." She handed out the release waivers. "Consent to be filmed without being compensated and acknowledgement that during the editing process some of what you say may be cut or re-arranged. Sign away."

Reluctantly, and only because they were being blackmailed to keep the other tape off the air, Sara and Grissom signed the papers along with the others.

"Great!" Ana collected the papers and tossed them aside. "Now, I need Gil and Sara to cozy up."

"What? No!" Grissom protested. "The whole city will see me publicly displaying affection!"

"Fat chance!" Catherine chortled, "I've never even seen them kiss and they're some of my closest friends!"

Ana laid down the law. "Work with me Gil or I'll have to use the other tape."

"And I don't care!" Then he realized that wasn't an option. "Okay, fine. During the interview, I'll reach out and hold her hand."

"A lousy hand hold!" She blasted. "I think the audience deserves more than just you holding Sara's hand after such an emotional experience! Would it kill you to toss your arm around her and pull her in for a hug!"

"Brrrr." Hank shook with laughter. "The two of you really are a perfect match! Have you even consummated the marriage yet, Sara?"

Sara shot her ex a dagger. "Keep it up, Peddigrew and someone is going to have to rescue you from me."

Grissom wasn't satisfied with the vagueness of her reply. "In response to your question, we've only been married eight days but, we're in double digits."

"Nice, Gris." Warrick was impressed and completely understood why his boss wouldn't keep quiet about those details to Sara's smartass ex.

Ed motioned for Ana to join him. "Don't worry about pushing the Grissoms for action. They provided plenty when we were out of the room." He put the headphones on her ears and pointed to the playback monitor.

With wide eyes, Ana watched the loving kiss and when the words followed, she gasped. _No matter what obstacles life throws our way, you'll always be the only man for me, Gil_. _Then I'm the luckiest man alive, Sara. _When she removed the headphones and handed them to Ed, she shook with excitement. "That's gold! It fits perfectly! Editing is going to be _so _much fun!" Ana returned to the gang with an extra bounce in her already perky step. "We're ready to roll, people. Oh and Gil…I'm sorry for being pushy. Don't do anything you're not comfortable doing."

Pleased that he made the insensitive woman see the light, he smugly said, "Thank you for respecting our privacy."

"In five…four…three…two…one…"

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**"Repercussions – Part 4"**

**August 4, 2005 (Day 104)  
****The Grissoms'  
****9:09 p.m.**

When Nick pulled into the driveway, he turned to Grissom. "I bet you've never been happier to be home."

"No kidding." Before he could reach for the door handle, Sara was out of the backseat and opening the passenger door. Still a little sore, he took Sara's hand and slowly stood.

"Good night, Nick." Sara, anxious to finally be alone with her husband, wasn't in the mood for small talk. "See you tomorrow."

"Since your cars are at the station, Sara, I'll pick you up for work at six, okay?"

"Thanks," they chimed as Sara shut the car door.

While Nick backed out of the driveway, Sara took Grissom's hand and started for the front door. "Still up for a bubble bath?"

"I think I should hit the Jacuzzi to help my sore…"

"The Jacuzzi!" Stopping, she gaped at her reckless husband. "Are you crazy! You'll boil the boys!"

"Totally forgot about the Jacuzzi ban." Squeezing her hand, he started walking for the front door. "But hey…at least I get poultry in the kitchen again."

When they reached the front porch, Sara saw a delivery box. "I wonder what's in…"

"The ovulation predictor kit, remember?"

"That's right! Once we try with the help of technology we'll know better if our project is _feasible_!" Brimming with excitement, she tore open the package and retrieved its contents. "I can't wait to…" Her sentence ended when she saw a bunch of people rushing towards the front door. "What the…"

"Mr. and Mrs. Grissom!" Blanche Carson, the neighbor in the house to the right, shouted. "It's our Senior Ladies Poker Night and when we saw you arrive, we had to come over and say we're so glad you're safe, Mr. Grissom."

Overwhelmed by the dozen wistful women standing before him, Grissom stammered, "Uh…well…thank you, Ladies."

"Here, Bubala." Doris Schwartz presented a tray full of chocolate chunk cookies to Sara. "A little something for you to nosh on in case you need some sweets. And you should eat up because look at you…you're a rail! It's a wonder you can walk on those toothpick legs. Obviously you don't have to worry about the calories going to your hips like my daughter Barbara does. Every day I to listen to her kvetch about her weight. She has a bad metabolism…the girl looks at a cookie and she gains ten pounds."

"Thanks." In order to accept the tray, she handed the ovulation kit to Grissom. "This is really nice of you."

The gaggle of grandmas giggled at the sight of the pregnancy related item and all at once started giving their two cents.

"Looks like someone is going to be a busy man!"

"Wear boxers so you don't suffocate your sperm!"

"Prop your hips with a pillow, Sara, and don't move for a half hour after sex so the little swimmers don't have to battle Gravity!"

"What hips, Blanche? The girl is a bean pole. Tomorrow I'll bring over some of my kugel to help fatten her up."

"Take cough syrup. I don't remember what it does, but it does something."

"Don't get fancy! Missionary is best!"

Sara finally held up her hand. "Thank you for the…um…unsolicited but heartfelt advice! Um…you know…my husband is really tired so…"

The ladies snickered and Doris was their spokesperson. "We understand…enough kibitzing…you have _business_ to attend to. Good night, kids."

"Oh god." Sara headed for the door. "That was _way_ more embarrassing than the questions the reporter asked. Those women were giving us sex instructions!"

"Well…now it can only get better, not worse, when we watch the news."

**Catherine's House  
****9:14 p.m.**

After marching Lindsay to her room, Catherine shut the door and began the interrogation. "What were you thinking!"

Plopping down on her hot pink satin comforter and clutching a purple throw pillow, Lindsay remained silent.

"Can I get an answer?"

"What was the question?" Lindsay asked as she stared dreamily at her collection of Usher posers pinned over her bed.

"Ugh!" Catherine marched across the room. "Why did you say Warrick was your step dad!"

"Because."

"Look at me!" Catherine insisted as she loomed over her daughter. "That's not something _you_ decide one day, Lindsay! And you did it in front of everyone! On camera! What were you thinking!"

"I was thinking if I said it then it would happen!" Jumping up from the bed, she shouted, "Before Warrick came along you were _never_ home with me. You were always running around with a different guy! Now you finally have one who cares about _me_ too. I don't want you to dump him like the rest of the men you tossed away when you were done with them! Do you know how many guys I've seen you with here and then never saw again!"

"I will not have you speak that way with me!"

"Why? It's all true!" Her eyes welled with tears. "The only reason you've been involved in my life lately is because Warrick makes you! Because he doesn't mind you having a kid like the rest of them did. The only reason I did better at school and made the softball team is because Warrick helped me! If he goes away then everything will go back to the way it was before. I don't care that he's not related to me! If I had to choose a parent I'd pick _him _over _you_ any day!"

Her daughter's words were a slap across the face and her voice reflected the pain. "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do!" Lindsay shouted before running into her bathroom and slamming the door.

Devastated from the veracity and intensity of her daughter's accusations, Catherine took a seat on the edge of the bed.

**Carrie's Apartment  
****9:22 p.m. **

"Baby, I'm home!" Nick called out as soon as he had one foot in the door.

"I'm busy in the kitchen," She shouted. "Why don't you hit the shower and we'll talk later?"

Disappointment seized him when she showed no enthusiasm for his arrival. "Yeah…I…I'm going to hit the shower."

"Great."

On his way to the bedroom, he unbuttoned his shirt while thinking, here I have my best day at work ever and she doesn't even care! I was _the man_ out there today. I took over as Assistant Director, I kept Sara calm, I had my team working the case and they _finally _came together. _Damn,_ I was good. All I wanted to do was come home and celebrate with my fiancée, but she's ignoring me!

When he reached the bedroom, he threw his shirt on a chair and shed the rest of his clothes while continuing his mental grumbling. I can understand if she's got work stuff but come on…five minutes wouldn't kill her. It's not like today was a typical day for me! Is this what it's going to be like when we're married? What if I have rough day at work? Is she going to care? I always care about her stuff.

Upon entering the master bathroom, he huffed over to the shower. After reaching in and turning the handle to hot, he leaned against the wall to wait for the temperature to rise. Lowering his head he groaned, "This night is not turning out the way…"

"Are you talking to me?" Carrie asked from her position in the doorway. Wearing only a towel and holding two glasses of champagne, she devilishly grinned. "You didn't think I'd ignore you on your best day of work ever, did you?"

"Not for a minute," He lied through his best cowboy smile. "Does this mean you're going to join me?"

"Oh yeah." Crossing the room, she extended a glass. "But first…a toast."

"Hit it, because I can't wait much longer to kiss you."

Lifting her flute of bubbly, she said, "To Nick Stokes, the best CSI, Supervisor and Acting Director this town has ever seen." She tapped her glass to his. "Way to go."

While the steam from the hot shower began filling the room, they seductively eyed each other and gulped down their celebratory drinks. And when they were done, Nick took Carrie's champagne glass and set it on the bathroom counter with his. "Shower time," He announced as he yanked off her towel.

"Ah!" The deft removal caught her off guard. "Smooth Stokes strikes again."

With a cocky smile plastered on his face he opened the shower door. "We live in a desert, Baby…let's not waste water…or time."

As requested, she entered the stall and let the heated water drench her body, but he didn't follow. Smoothing back her long wet hair, she grinned and coyly said, "The water is nice. Won't you come for a dip?" She grabbed the soap and tormented him.

"Hot damn!" He excitedly exclaimed before rushing in and consuming her with an ardent kiss that led to a string of equally energetic ones in between declarations and lathering.

"Mmm…this is just what I needed to come home to after a rough day at the office."

"I was so proud of you today, Baby."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"I still love hearing you shout that word."

"And here I was ready to shout something else."

"Another affirmation?"

"More like a command."

"Hell, I'm tired of being the boss today so, go for it."

**Catherine's House  
****9:33 p.m.**

Lounging on the couch watching ESPN, Warrick tilted back his second beer of the evening and focused on the baseball scores ticking across the bottom of the big screen.

"Hey," Catherine softly said as she plopped on the couch next to him. "Guess you heard all that, huh?"

"I was trying not to." Grabbing the remote, he muted the loud TV.

"I don't blame her for liking you more than me," she laboriously sighed. "Most days I like you more than me."

"Self-pity isn't a good color on you, Baby." He pulled her close. "Want my beer?"

"Thanks." She took a hefty swig. "So much of what she said was true. For years I breezed in and out of here in between dates while she stayed home with the sitter. It wasn't until you insisted we spend more time including her that…I really am a horrible mother." Once again the bottle found her lips.

"No…you just focus your energy in the wrong place sometimes."

"You mean I focus it on myself too much of the time."

He acknowledged her statement by lifting his hands.

"That's a yes."

Plunking her empty bottle on the coffee table, she snipped, "Then why the hell do you put up with me? Why aren't you cheating on me? It's been well over the usual number of months for me to stay in a relationship so, why aren't you running out the door like the rest of them?"

"Because I love you."

"What does that mean exactly?" She asked in a frazzled tone. "Because I'm feeling a little insecure right now and could really use some clarification from someone."

Taking her hand, he confidently replied, "It means that I get you and what I know doesn't scare me. It means it's okay that you're not perfect as long as you realize that too. It means that just because we argue, I'm not packing my bags. Good enough?"

"The best I've ever personally heard." Slipping into his arms, she released some of her tension. "Thank you for not bolting."

**Tawny's Apartment  
****9:45 p.m.**

Greg carried in the last of the cardboard boxes and placed them in the middle of the room. "If this isn't enough I can pick some more up in the morning."

"I think it's enough," She sweetly replied while emptying a dresser drawer into an open carton. "Do you want something to drink?"

"I better not." He checked his watch. "I've been up for almost twenty-four hours and I don't want to drive home even after one beer when I'm this exhausted."

"Aren't you staying here tonight?"

Glancing at the bed where they frolicked for weeks, he stammered, "I…you know…now that I…what am I trying to say? I know what I want to say but it sounds so…it's just that there's no way to say it without sounding…"

Ceasing her task, she instructed him, "Then just say it without trying to make it sound better. We've already had plenty of honesty tonight, right?"

"Okay." He ran his fingers through his hair and then blurted, "I don't want to sleep with you now that I'm not just in this to sleep with you but…I haven't had enough time to develop feelings for you to sleep with you _because_ I have feelings for you. So, even though we've had fantastic sex for weeks and you are the mother of my child, I feel like we are kind of starting from scratch and I don't even think I can kiss you so…yeah…it doesn't really make sense just saying it off the top of my head either, does it? Especially since you are moving in with me and I have a one bedroom apartment."

More than a little stunned, Tawny jittered, "You…uh…you _could _sleep with me but you won't. You're having me move in with you but you _don't expect_ that I have sex with you as part of the deal?"

"Yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying." Nervously he bit the corner of his lip. "You think I'm a freak?"

"Yes!" Bursting into a stellar smile she explained, "But in the best way possible! You're opposite from every guy I've ever known! My whole life, guys have only wanted me for sex! Well…except my dad of course."

Her last statement gave him huge relief since he had feared that might be the reason she didn't feel it was safe at home when she ran away six years ago. "You and your dad…you had a good relationship?"

"The best." Suddenly her smiled faded. "He um…died when I was fourteen. It's not something I really want to talk about right now."

"Sorry." He backpedaled. "You mentioned him so…"

"It's okay." She busied herself unloading the contents of another drawer. "So I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"I don't have to leave yet. I want to stay and help you pack." He grabbed a flat box and popped it into a cube. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

The truth was she wanted him to fall in love with her as much and as quickly as she was falling for him but she opted for a different suggestion. "How about the kitchen?"

He took his box and headed across the room. "Can you put the TV on because I want to catch the ten o'clock news? KTBC has an exclusive on the accident today."

"Sure." She found the remote and accessed the correct channel. "I'll call you when it's on."

**Catherine's House  
****9:50 p.m.**

Lightly rapping on the door, Catherine said, "Lindsay, can I come in?"

"No. But that won't stop you since there's not a lock on my door and don't bother giving me the speech about why there isn't a lock on my door because I've heard it a million times."

Catherine flashed Warrick a _see what I'm up against_ expression.

"Hey, Linds, I'm with your mom too," He announced. "Can _I _come in and bring her?"

"Sure."

"What can I say?" He teased, "Always worked that way when I was clubbing too. Really ticked off some of the ladies I partied with because they wanted the velvet rope dropped for them, not me. My take always was…who cares how you get in if once you're there you take the floor and show everyone you have the moves?" With that, he reached for the doorknob. "You're in, now work it."

Warrick let Catherine take center stage while he took a seat at Lindsay's desk, waiting to referee if necessary.

"I know I've disappointed you many times…way too many. I put my own needs ahead of yours too often and the anger you have towards me is justified."

"But…" Lindsay pre-empted.

"But nothing." She took a deep breath instead of snapping back. "I am sorry for making you feel like a low priority in my life. I love you with all my heart. I'm just not always good at showing it. I think I've gotten much better and yes…Warrick has been a positive influence on me, but it hasn't all been him. I've wanted the changes too. So I'm hoping with hearing my apology, we can go forward. I can try even harder and you can cut me a little slack. How does that sound?"

Warrick set the tone. "Sounds good to me."

And Lindsay followed his example. "Me too."

Catherine opened her arms. "Can I get a hug?"

In the background, Warrick nodded and then watched like a puppet master as Lindsay embraced her mother.

Once the reconciliatory moment ended, Catherine said, "Now…about the step dad thing."

Lindsay's ears perked up.

"You need to accept the fact that Warrick and I aren't ever going to get married, because that's just not something I'm interested in ever doing again." Her daughter's disappointment was obvious so she cut to the chase. "However, that doesn't mean he's going anywhere, because he's not. As a matter of fact, we have something we want to discuss with you."

"Oh my god! You're pregnant!" Lindsay jumped for joy. "Finally I'll have a little brother or sister!"

"What!" Catherine stared at her delusional daughter. "Sorry, that's never gonna happen either, Sweetie because I'm fixed and besides…how could I do better than you?"

"Oh. Well…that last part is true." She plopped on the bed. "So, what's the news?"

Warrick fielded this one. "Your mom and I would like to buy a new house together for all of us to live in as a family…kind of a fresh start for all of us. Would that be cool with you?"

"Yes!" Then she paused. "Wait! Would my room still be as big and have its own bathroom like this one?"

Catherine couldn't help but notice how close the apple had fallen from her tree. "Definitely."

"Then totally! I'll start packing right now!"

"You can't." Warrick stood up. "It's time to watch yourself on TV."

"Oh! That's right!" She darted toward the living room.

"She's a mini-me, isn't she?" Catherine groaned.

Taking her hand, he led her out of the room. "I see a vague resemblance sometimes."

**The Grissoms'  
****9:57 p.m.**

Sara, dressed in her most comfortable pajamas, breezed into the bedroom carrying the neighbor's tray of cookies in one hand and an apple in the other. "A little something for you." She tossed the shiny red fruit at her husband who was already secured under the blankets. "And a lot for me." She slid into bed with her plate of sweets. "Because I need to up my body fat percentage."

Holding his healthy snack, Grissom moaned, "You're going to eat those decadent cookies in front of me?"

"Just because one person has a lifestyle change doesn't mean the other should have to suffer." She bit into the first thick, gooey cookie. "Mmm."

"Hypocrite!" He called her out. "Then why couldn't I have meat in the kitchen all this time?"

"That's totally different. The no meat in the kitchen rule is based on ethics, not temporary restrictions such as weight loss or pregnancy."

After chomping the first bite of apple, he sneered. "You're going to have to do better than that, My Dear."

Reaching for a second cookie, she explained, "You're not morally opposed to me eating this fabulously fattening cookie, you're just jealous because you can't eat it. That's why you don't want me to enjoy it in front of you. Now…I don't want mammal meat in the kitchen because I'm ethically opposed to the killing of mammals for food. It's a whole different ball of wax. But if it makes you feel any better, when I'm pregnant, you'll be able to handle toxic substances and I won't and I'll be jealous."

"Oh yeah…that makes me much cheerier," He quipped as he took another bite of his fat-free snack.

"Hey, there are just some things in life that aren't fair." Grinning, she looked at her irritated husband. "Like today…when you were peeing standing up. I was totally jealous. I'd love to have that option! But what can I do?"

"I believe there is an operation available."

"Always thinking like a scientist." Frantically she pointed to the armoire. "The news is starting. Un-mute the TV."

"Do we really have to watch?" He clicked the appropriate button and the news channel's opening music filled the room.

"Yes." She took another cookie. "Just in case they twisted our words or made us look weird."

"What could they possibly twist? We barely said anything and we didn't touch each other."

**Las Vegas Metro Area  
****Everywhere a TV is tuned into KTBC  
****10:07 p.m.**

"I'm Nora Everhart. During the investigation of a triple homicide, the historic Harper House, a once infamous Nevada brothel, collapsed after a truck crashed into the building and set off a chain reaction in the aged support structure. One police officer, Gary Dunnaway, sadly lost his life, and Vegas' top Crime Scene Investigator, Gil Grissom, was buried alive in the basement of the building for nine hours before being miraculously rescued. Ana Silva, our reporter who provided news coverage from the scene throughout the day is with us in studio tonight with an exclusive report. Ana…"

"Thank you, Nora. KTBC was flooded with phone calls after we aired this _heart wrenching_ tape of new bride, Sara Grissom, breaking down over the news that her husband of only eight days was buried under tons of _deadly_ rubble. Just look at the _grief _on the poor woman's face. We later learned that Sara, like her husband, is a Las Vegas Crime Scene Investigator and that the two of them pined for each other for five torturous years before tying the knot. For a while it seemed that eight glorious days of marriage was all these two lab rats in love would ever get, but at four o'clock this afternoon we received the wonderful news that Gil Grissom was successfully rescued and was not seriously injured. Just hours ago I was given an exclusive tip that Mr. Grissom was not alone when trapped. His colleague, Ms. Catherine Willows, was with him the entire time and she also made it out unscathed. Ms. Willows' involvement was not disclosed in order to protect her beautiful teenage daughter Lindsay, from trauma. At eight o'clock this evening, I was lucky enough to be granted some time with all of the major players. Here is the story…"

"From the conference room of Boulder City Hospital, I'm Ana Silva. On my left I have Sara and Gil Grissom and on my right, are Catherine Willows, her daughter Lindsay and friend of the family, Warrick Brown. Also joining us are Nick Stokes, Acting Assistant Director of the Las Vegas Crime Lab; Hank Peddigrew, the rescue worker who extricated Mr. Grissom and Ms. Willows from the collapsed building and Dr. Manuel Ortiz, the physician who treated the victims of this terrible accident."

"Mr. Stokes, this turned out to be a great day for your lab. All your personnel were fine and your team caught a man you believe might be a suspect in the _triple homicide_."

"I'm very proud of my team," Nick confidently replied.

Ana walked directly to Lindsay and sweetened her voice. "Was it _scary_ when you heard your mom was in such a _terrible accident_ even though you knew she was okay by the time you found out?"

Lindsay brightly smiled directly into the camera and energetically waved. "Yes…I was really scared but it's cool now because she's not hurt. She and my step dad, Warrick, have dangerous jobs keeping scum off the streets of Las Vegas, so I'm used to the stress."

Catherine glared at her daughter for referring to Warrick as her step dad.

"Mr. Brown, as Lindsay's step dad, it would have been up to you to deliver the news that her mother was _dead_ What was going through your mind as you ran that scenario?"

"Uh…" He was still trying to process the fact that Lindsay referred to him as her step dad. "I uh…remained positive and wouldn't let myself consider the possibility that Catherine was dead."

"Ms. Willows, how did you and Mr. Grissom pass the time while you were waiting to be rescued? Was it uncomfortable being in such _cramped_ quarters?"

Catherine swept her hair off her shoulder and answered, "Gil and I are long-time friends. We had no problem keeping each other entertained and optimistic."

Lindsay burst out laughing. "My mom told me she had to pee in front of him!"

Once again Catherine felt like strangling her daughter and this time she was quite certain Grissom would assist. She opted instead to joke it off. "You never see nature's call addressed in disaster movies, but this is reality and desperate times call for desperate measures!"

Ana walked over and sat on the edge of the conference table. "Next, I'll speak with _devoted_ wife, Sara Grissom. Sara…we've all seen the footage of you crying your eyes out over the potential loss of your wonderful husband, Gil. Can you tell us what it was like when you first heard he was alive under the rubble?

"I was thrilled."

"Of course you were!" Ana grinned, before an amorous scene which was introduced via her voiceover, filled the screen. "Here's some footage of our lovebirds thanking their lucky stars for more time on this planet together after sharing a _very_ romantic kiss."

_No matter what obstacles life throws our way, you'll always be the only man for me, Gil._

_Then I'm the luckiest man alive, Sara._

"Aren't they so sweet?" Ana sighed pleasurably. "Mr. Grissom, what were your first thoughts when you saw your wife, right before you took her in your arms?"

_The whole city will see me publicly displaying affection! And I don't care!_

"You're quite a romantic, Mr. Grissom!" Ana said in a close up of her face. "You know what they say about the quiet ones. When asked if he and his wife had time for _affection_ since they haven't had a chance to take a proper honeymoon, here is what the sexy scientist had to say…"

_In response to your question, we've only been married eight days but, we're in double digits._

Ana chuckled. "I guess when you work hard, you play hard, right?"

Moving over to the center of the table, Ana held the microphone up to Hank. "In an odd turn of events, Sara's ex-boyfriend, Hank Peddigrew, ended up rescuing her husband. Hank, what was the first thing you said to Sara when you brought her husband to safety?"

_The two of you really are a perfect match!  
_

"And Dr. Ortiz, you treated both Mr. Grissom and Ms.Willows. Did you feel a lot of pressure treating these everyday heroes?"

"It was my pleasure!" Dr. Ortiz posed athletically while he spoke. "They are fantastic people who spend a good portion of their lives making Clark County a better place. I've never seen a happier couple than Sara and Gil. I hope I, like Gil Grissom, can find a special woman one day and live happily ever after."

"There you have it folks. A happy ending!" Once again a close up of Ana filled the screen before cutting to taped footage. "Especially for our nerdy lab rats by day…"

_Vetiver is a grass of tropical India cultivated for its aromatic roots that yield oil popular in perfume._

_It can also be found in Japan, Indonesia and Sri Lanka where they refer to it as the oil of tranquility. _

"…and lovers by night."

_I love you._

_I love you too._

"A love story five years in the making! This is Ana Silva, KTBC, Las Vegas' news leader."

**Catherine's House  
****10:11 p.m.**

While Catherine and Warrick remained in a deep state of shock, Lindsay jumped off the couch and yelled, "Did you see the _tongue action_ between Grissom and Sara! Whoa! That was soap opera worthy! Who knew an old guy like him could kiss like that? But I guess that's all he has left now that he's too old to have sex. Yuck! But hey did you see how great I looked on TV! And the reporter said I was your _beautiful _daughter! I hope Jimmy Talbot heard her say that!"

Suddenly the phone rang. "I'm sure it's for me!" Lindsay darted over to answer it. "Hello? Becca! YES! I thought my hair looked great too!"

Catherine finally was able to whine. "The whole lab will know I peed in front of Grissom."

"The whole lab is going to think I'm Lindsay's step dad." Warrick shook his head. "Which means they'll think we're married."

**Tawny's Apartment  
****10:11 p.m.**

Sitting on the floor next to Greg, Tawny remarked, "All this time I thought Mr. Grissom was playing the field, he was really married and totally in love with your friend Sara. Did you see how sweetly he told his wife he loved her?"

"Did you see the tonsil hockey those two were playing!" He grabbed his head in disbelief. "I've never even seen them hold hands and now I see this! I mean I saw them sleeping, but they weren't getting it on! This…it's like watching my parents in a soft core porn flick, only thankfully they didn't keep the tape rolling!"

**Carrie's Apartment  
****10:11 p.m.**

"Holy shit!" Nick screamed in bed while tossing Carrie to the side. "When did they film _that_! That's a hell of a lot worse than what she had on Sara! Did you see that kiss? And they have them being all mushy gushy and saying I love you! Oh my god…they must be devastated. They are such private people. I never even saw them hold hands until after the accident today! How are they going to walk into work tomorrow! Oh my god, they're going to blame_ me_ for this because I made the deal! They have to sue the station for invasion of privacy."

Chilled from the cool air conditioned air on her damp skin, Carrie scrambled for some covers. "Did the reporter make you sign a release?"

"Uh huh."

"Tough luck winning that case."

"Man!"

"You looked really hot and authoritative though." Carrie slithered back to her original position.

"I did?"

"Yes!"

Covering her with his body and a kiss, Nick growled, "I'll worry about the news report later."

**Boulder City Hospital  
****10:11 p.m.**

The nurses at the station giggled like school girls.

"Dr. Ortiz looked so handsome," Commented college intern Sabrina Healy. "Do you think he'll ever give me the time of day?"

"I'll take Gil Grissom over him any day," Purred recently divorced forty year old Susan Bryant. "Did you hear how he told his wife he was the luckiest man alive? He didn't care if the whole city heard him either! And the way he kissed her...all that romanticism and he's a genius crime fighter too. Wow."

Suddenly all the lights on the desk phone lit. "All three lines at once?" Peggy Hartley queried. "That's odd for a slow night." Curious, she picked up the first one. "ER nurses' station, this is Peggy." Her eyes widened. "You want me to give Dr. Ortiz your number because you heard on TV he's looking for a special woman to marry?"

"ER nurses' station, this is Susan." After listening to the girl on the other end of the line for a moment, Susan barked, "I will not leave that filthy message for Dr. Ortiz!"

**LVPD Lunch Room  
****10:11 p.m.**

When the sexy whistles and the vigorous clapping died down, random conversations could be heard throughout the cafeteria.

"**You owe me twenty bucks, Peterson! The kiss is plenty of evidence plus, he said double digits in eight days."**

"**Damn…I really didn't think they got it on."**

"He's such a romantic!"

"He's a sap!"

"**Willows and Brown are married?"**

"**Hey, if they're married, they're breaking department rules! Married people can't work for the same supervisor!"**

"**Well, Grissom is probably too preoccupied getting' it on with his honey to care."**

"They're so in love!"

"It's so great! Who says geeks can't be romantic! They're our role models!"

"**She dated Peddigrew? I thought he was gay?" **

"**Wishful thinking on your part, Kevin." **

"**Damn. Warrick's married and Hank is straight. Too bad Sander's doesn't pump up a little more 'cause he's definitely gay, he's just too scrawny for me." **

"Did you see the way she looked at him? He's definitely not her sugar daddy. She's nuts about him!"

"So he gave her that gorgeous ring because he loved her!"

"Honey, after five years of waiting, she deserved that damn ring!"

"**I had no idea Vetiver grew in Japan too." **

"**Lenny, you're such a nerd. Is that the _only _part you noticed? No wonder you're still a virgin." **

"I saw tongue action."

"No way! Him or her?"

"He started it, but she joined right in."

"**I need to go to Boulder City and twist my ankle so I can meet Dr. Hottie Ortiz!" **

"**No kidding! Let's go mountain biking there on our day off."  
**

"He loves her and he doesn't care if the whole city knows!"

"Good…because now the whole city does know."

**The Grissom's  
****10:11 p.m.**

Clutching his half eaten apple like a security blanket, Grissom lay in bed staring at the bedroom ceiling.

Holding her fourth cookie, Sara turned to her husband. "Here...you can have_ one_. After watching that on TV, I'm going to eat a dozen more."

"No thanks." He glanced over at her. "The doctor told me to watch you crying on TV as motivation to stick to my lifestyle changes. Seeing that footage just now…I know why he said it. I'm very committed to getting healthier."

"THAT'S what you're thinking about after seeing that story! Are you kidding me!"

"Why? Was there something else on the coverage? I didn't pay attention after that. I was just lying here thinking about leaving you behind and…"

"YES, there's more!" Grabbing the remote she accessed the DVR. "Luckily I digitally recorded it. The doctor swore your EKG looked good, right?"

"Now I'm worried." Sitting up, he watched the screen.

"_Here's some footage of our lovebirds thanking their lucky stars for more time on this planet together after sharing a very romantic kiss." _

_No matter what obstacles life throws our way, you'll always be the only man for me, Gil._

_Then I'm the luckiest man alive, Sara._

"NOW do you see why I'm near hyperventilation! The whole damn city just watched us making out and getting sappy!"

"I don't believe…"

"There's more!" She tossed him the remote. "You watch it while I go to my office and call Carrie for legal advice. That Ana Silva bitch is not going to get away with this! She was taping us when we were alone in the room! We'll sue her ass!"

Taking the remote, he pressed play.

"_Aren't they so sweet? Mr. Grissom, what were your first thoughts when you saw your wife, right before you took her in your arms?" _

_The whole city will see me publicly displaying affection! And I don't care!_

"_You're quite a romantic, Mr. Grissom! You know what they say about quiet scientists. When asked if he and his wife had time for affection since they haven't had a chance to take a proper honeymoon, here is what the sexy scientist had to say…" _

_In response to your question, we've only been married eight days but, we're in double digits_

Pressing stop, he pondered the footage. As horribly humiliating as this is, I have to say…we looked pretty damn good together and that kiss…definitely as hot as stuff I've seen on Cinemax after dark. Double digits in eight days…I can't believe I said that! I blame Peddigrew for egging me on. And Ana Silva referred to me as _the sexy scientist_…yeah…that's a new one. Although…I could get used to it. Imagine if I lose these twenty-five pounds? I'll be a _sexier_ scientist. What! I can't believe I'm thinking these things! The whole city just saw me kissing and declaring my feelings on TV! I'm a_ very _private person! This is the last thing I would ever want! Now the whole city knows my young gorgeous wife adores me and kisses me with enough passion to fog their TV screens and they know I've had sex with my beautiful passionate wife ten times in eight days! Then again…a few hours ago I was a boring, overweight, old guy with bad cholesterol and everyone believed the only reason Sara was with me was for my money. After this TV thing…I'm a sexy scientist with a sexually satisfied wife who loves me more than anyone else in the world!

"Honey!" Sara snapped upon reentering the room. "Why are you grinning like your racing cockroach just won the state championship when we've been exploited on TV!"

"Uh…it's a nervous reaction."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

"**Repercussions – Part 5"**

**August 5, 2005 (Day 105)  
****The Grissoms'  
****5:46 a.m. **

When Sara entered the bathroom suite, she saw Grissom, clad only in navy blue boxers, looking vexed as he stood in the middle of the room.

"Something wrong?" Sara asked as she tossed her hair out from the collar of her fitted teal blouse.

"Huh?" He glanced in the direction of her voice.

"You look a little lost." Walking over she stopped in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Are you worried about going into work today after the newscast?"

"No. I'm in shock because..." He rolled his eyes. "…I just weighed myself. I used to be 175 pounds!"

"When I met you at Berkeley? Probably."

Flabbergasted, he said, "I gained thirty-five pounds since you met me and you didn't tell me?"

He left her no choice but to laugh. "Oh, when should I have squeezed that in? Before or after I asked you out to dinner and you shot me down? If you recall, you weren't always receptive to my communication attempts! Besides…it's not something I cared about until it became a health issue yesterday." Changing her voice to a seductive rasp, she gave him some good news. "You've always been a sexy scientist to me." When his face lit up, she demanded, "Now kiss me like you did on TV last night, because I haven't left for work yet and I already miss you."

While they were getting lost in the lust of their lip lock, the doorbell rang.

"Nick," Sara grumbled. "He's giving me a ride to work, remember?"

"But before he does, let's nail him for setting up that damn interview." He hustled out of the bathroom. "Wait for me to throw on some clothes and we'll answer the door together."

While he got dressed, she reviewed her appearance in the mirror because she knew all eyes would be upon her after last night's telecast. As she smoothed her hands over her black pants, she wondered what angle the gossip mongers would take today and she questioned whether her teammates who _seemed_ genuine yesterday had, like Cinderella at midnight, turned back into their old selves again.

The doorbell rang once more.

"I'm ready," Grissom announced as he pulled the gray cotton t-shirt over his head. "You want to read him the riot act, or do you want me to handle it?"

"Let's tag team him with a little good cop from you and then I'll smack him down with my bad ass cop."

When they opened the door they saw Nick standing there with a bag of Krispy Kremes and a tray of coffee.

"Hey you two. I brought breakfast!" He proudly handed the bag to his colleague. "Gris, I got your favorite…crème-filled glazed."

"Gee, thanks." He passed the bag of forbidden food to his wife. "Wrong way to suck up today, Nicky."

As she burst out laughing, Sara thought…so much for my bad cop face.

"Look…" Nick began to grovel. "Really…I had the best intentions. I had _no idea_ that news shrew caught you guys mashing and gushing on camera. For what it's worth, Carrie and I act the same way all the time." When groveling didn't work, like his favorite childhood hero, Spiderman, he started spinning. "By the way…you guys are pretty hot together, you know that? Yeah…all those rumors about your relationship like, is Sara a gold digger? Is it a marriage in name only? Can they get their freak on? Pretty much put to rest, right?" When he saw their dagger eyes relent slightly, he spun a little more. "Yeah…today everyone knows you're a stud, Grissom. And Sara…instead of thinking he's your Sugar Daddy, they know you really love him. Do you know how long it would have taken for those rumors to stop churning? Hell, four minutes of TV coverage accomplished six, maybe nine months of hard work to change perceptions. It's okay…you don't have to thank me. I'm just glad I could help."

Sara stared at her longtime friend. "I think that's some of the best bullshit I_ ever_ heard."

Grissom concurred. "Are you sure that Brass isn't your biological father?"

Shaking her head, Sara posited another theory. "I think it's from hanging around all that manure on his parents' ranch in Texas."

Nick held up his arms. "Hold up. When you go to work today, if you don't feel better instead of worse about how people think of you, I'll eat my ten-gallon hat."

"With no steak sauce?" Sara inquired, fully prepared to shove the hat down his throat whole if need be.

"No, ma'am, I'll eat it dry."

**Vancouver BC**

**The Sutton Place Hotel**

**6:09 a.m. **

When Jim Brass checked the clock on his nightstand, he groaned, hoping it would be later. After all, what was the point of waking up early when you were alone?

"_So…" Brass murmured as he held Heather's hand, walking her to her hotel room. "I had a lovely time." _

"_Me too," She replied through a satin smile. "The best." _

_When they reached her door, he eyed her fuschia painted lips with desire. "Here we are…at your room." _

"_Yes." Curling her fingers around his jacket lapels, she pulled him in for a long, hard kiss and when she was done she encouraged him with her eyes and said, "I do hope we can see each other again tomorrow. Good night, Jim." _

_The look on his face drove her wild. _

"_Uh…sure…" He struggled to regroup. "Lunch and sightseeing?" _

"_Sounds wonderful." Retrieving her hotel key card from her purse, she winked. "Until then." _

"_Until then," He sweetly replied while cursing her for this latest twist. Of course there was always the secret word he could utter…or shout…to end the game but, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of breaking him down. "Good night." _

Tossing his legs over the edge of the bed, Jim rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, while thinking…after I take a leak, I should probably turn on my phone and check my messages since I have six hours to kill.

**The Grissoms' **

**6:12 a.m. **

When he entered the kitchen, Grissom saw the pile of stuff he had dumped on the kitchen island upon returning from the hospital last night…discharge paperwork, reading material, his coveralls...

The coveralls! He lunged for the pocket, retrieving its precious contents…maggots in a vial. "Hello there." He was pleased to see them still usable. "Got DNA?"

Without thinking, he headed for the garage and once there, realized he didn't have a car. His was at the station and he was supposed to be home resting from yesterday's ordeal until Sara picked him up at noon. Turning on a dime, he made a beeline for the kitchen and specifically the house phone, but before he could even pick it up, it rang.

Upon checking the caller ID he saw it was Brass and snatched the receiver. "Look who finally decided to check his messages. When I was temporarily doing your job I had my phone and my pager on twenty-four/seven in case of emergencies, and need I remind you that was at the beginning of my relationship with Sara. At a minimum you check your messages twice a day. It's part of having the big job…that's why I didn't want it!"

"You're okay! I was wading through my messages to see if anyone important called and when I got to Sara's message, I listened and _what the hell happened_?"

His voice ripe with irritation, Grissom replied, "I wouldn't want to bother you with work stuff while you're on your secret vacation with your mystery lady."

"Stop being a girl and tell me!"

As requested, he barked into the phone, "Catherine and I were in the basement of an old building working a triple homicide when the whole thing toppled on us. We were trapped for nine hours but we're both fine. Sara had a nervous breakdown in the process and called you hoping you could get the rescue moving faster and give her a few encouraging words. She really needed you but, don't worry, we did fine without you. Nick took over as acting Assistant Director and did one hell of a job so…if you want to stay wherever you are, don't feel guilty."

"Thanks for the absolution, Father. I'll stop by St. Mary's and say a rosary for good measure. Seriously…I'm sorry I didn't check my messages sooner. I'm relieved that everyone is okay. Can we make up now? I'll bring you back a souvenir from my trip."

"Not a good way to suck to me," He grumped. It was exactly what his asshole father used to do as bribery. "How about this…you tell me your plan for a work arrangement for Sara and me. I don't want to wait until you return."

"Really? My little speech that prefaces my idea might not sit well with you."

"Try me." He leaned against the counter.

"In reality, because you're a Land Baron, neither you nor Sara _has to_ work."

"_This_ is your big plan?" He rolled his eyes. "Telling one of us to quit?"

"Patience, grasshopper."

"Fine. Go ahead."

"Neither of you have to work, but being the freaky geeks that you are, you feel compelled to keep working, so that led me to thinking…money is of no object as long as you have a job you love, right?"

"Right." Now he was intrigued.

"And in order for you to love your job, ideally you have to work with the best cases and do the least amount of administrative crap possible, correct?"

"Yes, but you said I wouldn't like your speech."

"I'm getting to those two items."

"Two?" Grissom decided to move to the living room and sit in his favorite overstuffed arm chair. "Okay…I'm sitting."

"Do you want the bad news about you first? Or the bad news about the lab first? Not that there's much of a differentiation."

Without hesitation he chose. "The lab."

"We've fallen to number three in the country."

"What!" Incensed, he leapt out of the chair. "Who passed us?"

"Los Angeles."

"No! Anyone but them!" Having his former workplace take the lead was a knife in the heart. "How!"

"I warned you it wouldn't be pretty. It was all Ecklie's fault…you know his priorities were much different than yours."

Devastated, he crashed on the couch. "Yesterday I find out I'm overweight, old and at risk for a cardiac incident if I don't make some serious lifestyle changes and now this…"

"Hey, thanks for that great segue into point number two." Brass chuckled through the phone.

"Huh?"

"You're pushing fifty, pal. Isn't it about time you started thinking of doing something a little different? Let someone else have your crappy job so you can do something that suits your vast intellect and utilizes your talents in the best way possible."

"You know, Nick already laid a pretty thick layer of bullshit on me this morning so cut to the chase."

"Here's my recommendation…I want to remove you from your supervisor position and put you over the CSIs in a non-administrative technical capacity and have you work with me to bring the lab back to where it was. Think high level stuff like working the difficult cases that will get us notoriety; training the lesser-qualified to be more like you so we have the best staff; performing quality control so if we miss something, we learn from our mistake; revisiting cold cases that should have been solved. You can design it and take it in any direction you need to get the lab back to where it needs to be. And you would also have more time for publishing, which automatically ups our reputation. And even though I know you're not ego driven, I was thinking of the title Master Criminalist? Like that?"

"Do they have one of those in LA?"

"No."

"I like the title." He took a moment to breathe in air and the idea. "How did you get this in the budget? We can't even fill the open positions we have."

"Yeah…that's where we circle back to my original comment. The one about money not being important since you're rolling in it."

"You want me to work for free?"

"No, that wouldn't be right or legal. You keep your benefits package but I knock your salary down to minimum wage. Trust me…the Director knows he's getting a deal and isn't complaining."

"What about Sara?"

"She can choose to return to Graveyard or she can stay where she is. I guess it really depends on when you want to work or who she wants to work for, Nick or whoever you promote in your place. But hey…I know you, you need time to absorb all this and talk to Boom Boom, right?"

"I'd say I'll call you with questions or a decision but you'll have your phone off." He shook his head. "When I had you over a barrel I should have asked you who your mystery lady was."

"It's Lady Heather."

"Very funny." Sighing, he said, "Give me some time to think all this through and we'll talk later." With that he clicked off the phone. "Master Criminalist? I do like the sound of that."

**LVPD  
****Crime Lab  
****6:19 a.m.**

Nick and Sara entered the building together, each waiting to have their theory proven. Sara was certain last night's broadcast would catapult her discomfort at work to a whole new level. Nick was sure that the news story would relieve the pressure that Sara had been feeling over the last week.

Unfortunately for Nick, the first person they bumped into was Hodges.

"Hey, Mrs. Grissom," Hodges sniped. "I saw you giving mouth to mouth resuscitation to your husband on TV…I don't recall being taught the tongue maneuver when I went for my re-cert last month. Besides, didn't they have an EMT on the scene to handle that? Or did you have a problem with your ex-boyfriend sucking face with your hubby?" Snickering, he walked out the door.

Sara glared at Nick.

"He is not representative of the majority," Nick groveled. "He's not even representative of the human race."

"Whatever." Sara headed for locker room with Nick on her heels.

"Sara!" Theresa called out.

When she turned she saw Mabel and Theresa walking her way. "I hope your ten-gallon hat is in your locker Nick because…here come the next two torpedoes."

Theresa placed a hand on Sara's shoulder before candidly speaking. "Mabel and I just wanted to say that we were so happy to hear that Grissom was okay. We followed the story the whole time and our hearts were breaking for you when you thought he was gone."

"Yeah…" Mabel lowered her head and, as the priest had instructed her at confession last night, she made penance. "We also want to apologize for any rude things we said about you and your husband. I know we didn't say anything to your face but…we said a few…okay a lot of things behind your back and we're really sorry. It was obvious from watching you on TV that you're not a gold digging, sleep-my-way-to-the-top sorta gal."

Nick puffed out his chest. "So you ladies are saying that based on Sara and Grissom's TV appearance last night, you changed your mind about the relationship?"

"Definitely." Theresa nodded vigorously.

Beaming, he turned to Sara. "What do you say about that?"

"I accept your apology, _Mabel and Theresa_."

"Thanks. Have a nice day." The two women walked outside to the smoker's patio.

"See it wasn't so bad to eat crow," Theresa told her friend. "Sara looked genuinely happy."

"Yeah…" Mabel lit up her cigarette. "…of course she did. I'm sure she got some action from Mr. Double Digits in Eight Days before leaving for work this morning. Hey…I wonder if they were saving it up until they got married, that's why all the action."

"We'll never know."

"Sure we will." Mabel took a long drag. "They said on the news that it took five years for the two of them to get together, right? That coincides with Grissom's weight gain."

"He gained weight because he wasn't having sex?"

"Right!" Sucking hard on her cigarette, Mabel said, "When people aren't getting laid they orally fixate. You know…they eat a lot."

"I've heard that." Theresa puffed vigorously on her Virginia Slim.

"So…if we suddenly see the weight melting off Grissom, we'll know."

"Ahhhh." Theresa nodded. "But what about the beard?"

**Greg's Car  
****6:46 a.m.**

On the way to work, holding his jar of maggots, Grissom filled his chauffeur/DNA specialist in on the plan. "It might take a while to recover evidence from the accident site but, if we can match the DNA from a maggot to the blood found on the suspect's boot, we'll have no problem holding him. When we get to the lab, we'll head straight to DNA and you'll get to work processing these guys. I don't trust anyone else with this."

As he turned a corner, Greg graciously said, "Thanks, Boss."

With business out of the way, Grissom changed to a personal tone. "You uh…you're looking calmer this morning. Sara was worried about you last night. She'll be happy to see you're doing better."

"Well…" Greg shrugged. "I have a plan, but I wouldn't say I'm doing better."

Grissom didn't pry, figuring if Greg wanted to release more details he would and a minute later they came.

"First of all…you were right about Tawny. She does have a story, although I only know parts of it. Maybe you could help me try to piece it together from the details I give you and from the standard profile for girls like her?"

"Sure." He settled back to listen.

"Here's what I know so far. She ran away from home when she was sixteen with some older guy, not sure how old. He took her to Vegas and dumped her shortly thereafter. She didn't return home because she felt it wasn't safe. At seventeen she started stripping to make ends meet."

"Know anything about her father? Could he have…"

"Just last night she mentioned him and thinking what I'm sure you're thinking, I asked her…did you and your father get along? She lights up and says they had this great relationship, but just as quick she saddens and tells me he died when she was fourteen. What do you think?"

"Well…it's very typical of girls like her to have an absent or abusive father. The fact that he died when she was fourteen is very telling. Unlike someone who loses their father at a younger age, her loss coincided with end of puberty so, when she looked to fill her loss with male companionship, the guys most likely sexualized it. Considering sexuality was new to her it would be easy to become confused. If she was feeling vulnerable and alone she most likely took whatever attention she could get. Her running away with an older guy really solidifies the theory. Obviously she chose the wrong guy." He glanced at Greg. "I'm not insinuating it was a reflection on her intelligence…she was young and desperate. She was looking for someone to protect her from whatever it was that left her feeling unsafe. When people are desperate they often make choices they wouldn't make under normal circumstances and, as we know all too well, there are plenty of creeps out there selling a good story to girls in situations like Tawny's."

"Any theories on what made her feel unsafe?"

"If I were investigating, my next question would be did the mother have a boyfriend or remarry after the father died? I'm thinking once Tawny hit puberty she turned a lot of heads. Maybe one of them was the new man in the house. Initially she could have liked having him there as a father figure and got close to him in a non-sexual manner, but then he crossed the line and she panicked. Maybe she even told her mother but the mother didn't believe her story. Remember the Blake case? Not that I want to bring up _his name_ but…when Wendy told her mother that Mike Rodgers raped her and killed her sister, the mother didn't believe her…her mind wouldn't let her believe it. What did Wendy do?"

"She bolted."

"Because home was no longer safe and she wasn't supported by the one person she thought she could count on."

"Makes me sick just thinking about all this and all the stuff we see at work. The longer I do this job the more I start to think my happy childhood was an anomaly."

"Not an anomaly but, more unique than you thought." Considering every member of his team except Greg had childhood issues, it was an anomaly. "So, you said you had a plan?"

"Right." He snapped back from the depressing thoughts overtaking him. "I couldn't stomach the thought of her stripping anymore, so I told her to quit and move in with me."

Raising his brow, Grissom asked, "I understand why, but don't you think you're rushing things a bit asking her to live with you? Just yesterday you told me you didn't have feelings for her. Trust me…living with someone is an adjustment. Sara and I were already in a relationship and knew each other for years and it was still a little stressful. The two of you barely know each other and…"

"You know what I make and I've blown all my money on this car and electronics. I can't afford to put her up in a place."

"She doesn't have anything saved up? I mean, she's been working top clubs for a while. She doesn't have a drug habit, does she?"

"No. Thank god. I know this is hard to believe, but she's kind of fastidious about her body. Her place is always spotless too. Kinda weird considering she's been gyrating on sweaty guys for years. "

"She can't control that environment, so she controls what little she can in her personal environment. Makes sense to me. Like an anorexic who feels she can't control her exterior world so she controls the one thing within her grasp."

"I suppose." He sighed. "Anyway, to answer your question…yes, she's pulled in some bucks but she spent her savings on silicone…you know, reinvesting in Tawny Inc., and although she did well stripping, she spent it as fast as it came in. Trust me, I watched her pack her clothes and shoes…I've never seen so many shoes."

"Makes sense...material possessions make her feel better about herself…probably makes her feel successful when she's failing at everything else. Remember, it was my Bvlgari bag that made her change her mind about stripping privately for Catherine and me when we met her at the Cheesecake Factory."

For the first time in a while, Greg laughed. "That sounds_ so_ messed up. Especially after watching you and Sara get it on last night."

"Now…that sounds very messed up to me. Never in my _wildest nightmares_ did I think I'd hear _you_ say you were _watching_ Sara and I…get it on. It's bad enough you saw us sleeping in the same bed."

Laughing harder, Greg said, "I'm happy for you Double D."

"Double D?"

"It's short for Double Digits in Eight Days. It's a great rap name for you." Greg flicked on the radio. "Speaking of music…time to further your education."

"When I was trapped in that building, it horrified me to know the last song I might ever hear was that garbage you played me."

"Chill out and catch this righteous vibe, Double D...and feel free to jam."

His fingertips massaging his temples, he moaned, "I should have taken a cab."

**LVPD  
****Crime Lab  
****6:57 a.m.**

When Jas saw Sara walking into the conference room, she rushed over. "I take one day off and look what I miss! I'm so glad everything turned out okay."

"Thanks." Sara nodded, appreciative of the friendly face and honest comments. "Did you catch it on the news last night?"

"Yes." She averted her eyes. "It felt a little odd seeing you guys um…"

"Tell me about it!" Sara chuckled. "I've never seen myself kissing him either!"

Nick walked in just in time for Sara's comment. "Maybe you should install some mirrors on the bedroom ceiling?"

Sara didn't bat an eye. "Nah, I'm thinking video cameras in each corner of the room so we can tape and watch ourselves over and over."

While laughing, the three of them took seats.

"What's so funny?" Pete asked as he bounded into the room followed by the rest of the team. "You guys wouldn't be talking about last night's news report, would you? About our boss singing our praises?"

"Suck up," Trey groaned.

Nina exclaimed, "Sara! You have to fix me up with Dr. Ortiz! What…a…stud! Did you have a chance to feel his muscles?"

"No." Sara grinned. "But Grissom has his home phone number." He had given it to Grissom in case the lab ever wanted him for consultation. "I might be able to convince him to give it to me."

Pete bust out laughing as he plopped in a chair. "If my girlfriend kissed me like you kissed your husband, I'd do whatever she wanted."

Trey sneered, "Yeah…first you'd actually have to get a girlfriend."

"That's okay, Pete," Jas replied after winking. "Trey has to get a personality before he can even think about getting a girlfriend."

Nina smiled approvingly at her co-worker. "Nice barb!"

"Thank you," Jas gushed, feeling good about finally fitting in and tossing a successful joke.

Pete flashed a grateful smile. "Thanks for covering my back, Jas."

There was something about the way Pete said her name that sent a delightful flutter through Jas. "Anytime."

Like a proud papa, Nick sat at the head of the table. "We're starting to have that nice dysfunctional family feel I'm used to from Grave, right Sara?"

"Definitely."

"Hey, Sara…did you see the front page of the newspaper this morning?" Pete inquired. "Somebody's telephoto lens got a real nice shot of you and your hubby reuniting at the accident site."

"Great." She dropped her head in her hands. "What's next? People posting on some Internet Message Board about our relationship! Ugh!"

**DNA Lab  
****7:08 a.m. **

Greg watched as Grissom painstakingly sliced open a maggot and extracted a sample.

"Got it?"

"Yep." After sliding his stool away from the counter, he peeled off his latex gloves. "You're up." He stood and headed for the door. "Bring me the results as soon as you have them."

"You got it, Double D."

"Stop calling me that." He left the DNA lab and headed for the conference room where Nick held his daily morning rally. Once there, he opened the door and interrupted the meeting. "I have an update on the Harper House case."

"Romeo is all business this morning," Nina commented in Trey's ear.

"What are you doing here?" Sara chided. "You're on leave."

"I feel fine."

"The County says you're not supposed to be here. How did you get here, anyway?"

Nick's lips curved upward. "Do you want us to step out while you argue about this?"

Ignoring his wife protestations, Grissom took an open seat at the table and excitedly informed the group, "When I pulled maggots out of my pants this morning I ..."

Instantaneous laughter rattled the glass-walled room.

Shaking his head at Sara, Nick quipped, "Damn, the two of you are into some freaky shit. And they made you seem so normal on the news!"

"He's referring to maggots from _the case_!" Sara announced as she stared at her bug loving husband. "Right?"

"Yes, I had them in a vial in my coveralls." Folding his arms across his chest, he waited for Nick's team to regain composure. "This is still my case even though you guys caught the suspect but if you don't want to work together I'll be more than happy to take all the glory."

Sara warned them. "When he gets territorial it's best to appease him."

Nick knew the truth in her statement. "You have the floor, Gris."

While he sat there staring at them, he thought, once I'm the lab's Master Criminalist I'll make them kiss my ring like the Godfather if they need something…except Sara of course, because the rules have always been different for Sara. "As I was trying to tell you…prior to the building collapse I collected maggot samples from Jane Doe One. Maggots, when they feed on the corpse, ingest the victim's DNA. I have Greg in the lab processing a sample right now. I want to see what you've compiled thus far so we know where we stand once Greg has the DNA results from the maggot. First I want a run down on the suspect. Then I want to hear about the blood evidence and any other trace evidence you found. Next, tell me…"

_And while Grissom was leading the charge in the lab, someone somewhere, was reading about him…_

Every time he got the chance to access the Internet, he always checked the same web page first…The Las Vegas Review-Journal.

Every time he typed in the website address, he felt a familiar twinge as he waited for the news page to materialize. Would there be any news about the Las Vegas Crime Lab today? Any news about _him_? About Gil Grissom, Las Vegas' top Forensics man? Anxiously, he rubbed his hands together as he waited.

Most days there was nothing and he moved on to other cyber interests.

Some days there was a blurb…a sentence that mentioned Gil's name in relation to a case, but nothing that gave him information or made him feel anything.

Every once in a while there was an article and Gil would be quoted saying something intellectual. He imagined hearing his voice, hearing the air of superiority he was certain was there. He couldn't help feeling a little jealous because he knew what it was like to be on top of his game, and he missed the rush. He'd never get his chance again but Gil…he still had plenty of time.

Back in March of this year, there was even a photograph of him at a crime scene near Lake Mead, something to do with bugs. When he saw it, he noted Gil looked the same as the last time he was in the paper in October 2004. The headline was etched in his memory…Gil Grissom Opens Investigation on UNLV Death from 1981. The article went on to say how Gil cracked the case wide open. His look in the photo was smug.

Most days there was nothing.

Some days there was a blurb.

Every once in a while there was an article.

Today he hit the jackpot.

Today he got an article, a photograph and something he had never seen mentioned before…_personal information_ on Gil Grissom. And when he read the words underneath the shocking photo, they blew his mind...

_Gil Grissom and his wife of eight days, Sara (Sidle) Grissom were reunited just after four p.m._

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

"**Repercussions – Part 6"**

**August 6, 2005 (Day 106)  
****The Grissoms'  
****6:27 a.m. **

"I'm in the bedroom," Sara shouted when she heard the door from the garage into the house open. Dressed and ready for work, she was perched on the edge of the bed reading the instructions for her fertility monitor.

"Is it time to start?" Grissom excitedly inquired as he hastily kicked off his shoes and joined his wife on the bed.

"Slow down Double D." With her palm she halted his advance. "It's only day four and more importantly, the troops are to remain in a holding pattern until your appointment at _the bank_ this morning, remember? We want the soldiers who have been chomping at the bit for the last three days, not lazy second string reinforcements."

"Oh…I forgot about _the bank_." He fell back on the bed. "I think I should reschedule because I'm still tired from the accident and…"

"Maybe I would believe you if you hadn't insisted on working your shift last night even though you were supposed to be on leave."

"But I stayed at my desk, it wasn't physical. At the appointment I will have to…"

"Do what you've been doing since you were fourteen?" She teased, "I'm sure you have enough experience you could do it in your sleep."

"Fourteen?" His amusement with her guess was reflected in his expression. "Are you kidding? I was a curious biologist well before then, Honey."

"Of course. You probably studied the process until you had it perfected for maximum efficiency. I could see you keeping a time chart and graphing the results for trend analysis."

"No comment."

Moving her eyes from the ovulation kit instructions to him, she asked in a stealthy tone, "Speaking of biology and curiosity, how old were you when you lost your vir…"

"We're not having this conversation." Sitting up, he prepared to flee. "If you want to talk in biological terms I have no problem. You bring in the personal and…"

"I was seventeen. Happened freshman year at Harvard" She nonchalantly provided the details. "Met him in Applied Statistics. It was 100 awful."

"Thank you for the unsolicited information." His eyes were fixed on hers while he desperately tried to ignore his curious mind's desire for more details of his wife's sexual history. "I need to take a shower before _my appointment_."

"It's not for three hours," She reminded him while yanking him back to the bed. "Come on…I'm your wife…we shouldn't have secrets."

"It's not a secret. It's irrelevant."

"Nothing is irrelevant. You say that all the time!"

"Fine." He presented a challenge which he was certain she couldn't meet. "Without leaving this bed and in less than sixty seconds, recite a famous quote with _irrelevant_ in it and I'll tell you."

Her mouth curved into a victorious smile. "Edgar Allan Poe…Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth, arises from the seemingly _irrelevant_."

"Damn." Cockiness bit him in the ass once again.

"I think I deserve bonus info for reciting a quote that has potential _relevance_ to the question. What truth will arise from your seemingly irrelevant story? Hmm?"

"Poe also said, the true genius shudders at incompleteness and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be." He waited for his reprieve.

"Good for Poe but, he didn't lose a bet with me, you did... so pay up." She gave him her full attention. "Still waiting."

Looking at her, he knew there was no way out so he spilled the information as rapidly as possible. "Twenty-four in LA. Met her at a crime scene and _no_, she wasn't a suspect then or later. She was a professional escort but I didn't pay her…we traded tutorial services. I needed help in bed and she needed help passing Algebra in college. Oh…and here's the bonus info you said you deserved…it was 100 fantastic every Tuesday and Thursday morning for _months_."

Stunned, she glumly said, "That's a much better story than mine."

"Exactly why I didn't want to tell you! You _assumed _I was embarrassed. I wasn't, I just felt bad that your first time stunk while mine was ideal for me…a gorgeous experienced woman, no relationship anxiety and I got to show off my mathematical intellect." He grinned uncontrollably. "Sorry…the irrelevancy thing was a sham."

"Yeah…" She nodded. "Because there's plenty of relevance in your story. Specifically why you're a morning person in the sack, where you learned your moves and why you always look happy solving algebraic equations."

"And now I know why you always look annoyed when doing statistical analysis." Chuckling, he kissed her cheek. "I'm taking a shower." He left her sitting on the bed while he strolled toward the bathroom whistling.

"Honey, that thing in the shower we…did she?"

"Yep."

While picking up the directions for the fertility monitor, she mused, let's hear it for the algebra-challenged call girl who is responsible for my current high level of satisfaction.

When she saw Grissom immediately re-emerge from the bathroom, she asked, "Want to talk some more?"

"Hell no," He scoffed at the thought. "I want the copy of Journal of Forensic Sciences I was reading."

"Is that what you're bringing to use at _the bank_ for inspiration instead of using their porn stash?"

Hustling toward his nightstand, he replied, "While the article I was reading on the effect of electron beam irradiation on forensic evidence is titillating and would certainly do the trick, I was actually planning on reading it right now."

"Ah." She watched him quickly retrieve it. "Honey, I was wondering…it's obvious you benefited from your tutoring, but did your student? What grade did she get in Algebra?"

He was insulted she could think he was ineffective as an instructor. "An A of course."

"Kind of a double edge sword, huh? Once she passed then your tutoring gig was over as well."

"Well…all good things must come to an end." Tucking the science journal under his arm, he said in a devilish tone, "Luckily for me…next semester she took Chemistry, which she was worse at than Algebra. I'm pretty sure the shower tutorial was the day she finally caught on to Atomic Mass."

"Speaking of Atomic Mass…" Cackling, she got up from the bed and walked over to him. "Weren't you on your way somewhere with that journal?" Pecking his lips, she announced, "I need to go to work. Call me after you make your deposit at _the bank_." Then she winked. "Or call me if you need motivation."

**Wendy Blake's House  
****8:34 a.m. **

Carrie was at the kitchen table combing through bridal magazines over coffee with her sister-in-law Wendy when Sean bounded into the room.

"Aunt Carrie!" He rushed to the table. "Did you talk to Mr. Grissom since the accident? Is he really okay?"

"Yes…yes…I promise he's fine, barely a scratch. Nick worked with him yesterday." She studied his eyes. "You were really worried, huh?"

Wendy nodded. "Unfortunately, I had the TV on when they broke in with the story. I was in another room and couldn't shield him from it in time. That damn drama queen Ana Silva made my poor boy hysterical!" Recalling her son's tears, she pulled him in for a hug. "I told you Mr. Grissom was fine when I saw him on the ten o'clock news."

Carrie chuckled, "Oh yeah, trust us Sean…he was _full_ of energy."

"Okay." Sean, although more relaxed, wasn't content just hearing second-hand that his mentor was okay. "I'm ready to exchange the most recent books he loaned me with some new ones. Mom, maybe you could call him? Maybe he'd let me come over and get them."

Wendy stood up and guided her son to the backdoor. "Before it gets too hot, go out back with your dad and brother to get some exercise. If you do that for an hour, then I'll call Mr. Grissom and see if we can stop by some time to exchange books."

"Deal!" Sean bolted out the back door, fully prepared to toss a stupid football for an hour in exchange for a chance to hang out with his favorite teacher and get some new science textbooks.

Through the window, Carrie watched her quirky nephew dash over and join in the play. "I've never seen him that motivated to throw a ball. He really worships Gil, doesn't he?"

With her head in the fridge retrieving eggs, Wendy answered, "Sean had to do a project at science camp the other day…one of those what do you want to be when you grow up deals complete with a paper and a visual representation of the career." With a carton of eggs in hand she retreated and shut the door. "Of course, the title of his paper was… I want to be a Forensic Scientist and Entomologist just like Gil Grissom."

Carrie gnawed on her bottom lip. "And the visual representation? Please tell me he didn't bring in road kill?"

"No, but only because I had the foresight to forbid it!" Cringing, she set the eggs on the counter and donned her apron. "He took one of McKenna's old baby dolls to use as a corpse. Then he used different types of gooze to make it look like the doll was all slimy from decomposing. Lastly…he covered it with plastic bugs."

"Bet he got an A."

"A plus." One by one, Wendy cracked eggs in a white porcelain bowl. "If Gil hadn't survived, Sean would have been devastated…we all would have been. Not only is he a fantastic role model for my science-obsessed son, he was responsible for bringing Mike Rodgers to trial and finally getting my sister and me some justice."

"Hey!" Carrie sweetly reminded her sister-in-law, "My man Nick had a hand in that too."

Grabbing her whisk, Wendy unfurled a bittersweet smile. "My sister gets killed and decades later when we're at the trial of her murderer, you meet your future husband. Something so blessed coming out of something so awful…really makes you wonder if there isn't some really twisted divine plan, huh? Think about it…how funny is it that the _two_ men responsible for nailing my sister's killer are now so personally important to my family?" Sighing, she declared, "The world needs more men like Nick and Gil."

"Well…" Carrie flipped a page as she spoke. "Eventually I'll make sure there is another generation of Nicks in this world. As far as another generation of Gils…don't worry, I think Sara has that under control."

Excitement splashed over Wendy's face. "You mean?"

"Not yet but, they're definitely working on it."

Wendy laughed. "It looked like they were about to work on it on TV last night."

"I know!" Carrie joined in the laughter. "Before last night, I'd never even seen them hold hands!"

"From what I saw on TV, Gil is more than ready to take matters into his own hands!"

**The Fertility Institute  
****Room 4  
****9:34 a.m. **

While he was at the sink washing his hands, Grissom noted the varied collection of saucy magazines displayed on the counter. Being the motivated pro that he was, he had efficiently taken care of the business at hand without utilizing the provided publications. However, since only a short time had elapsed since he entered the room, he realized he should kill a few minutes so people didn't think he was too experienced at the task.

Curious as always, and with nothing else to do to pass the time, he surveyed the magazines and randomly selected one.

Leaning against the counter, he flipped through the pages not expecting to see anything he hadn't seen in these magazines before.

Then he saw page seventeen…a beautiful buxom blonde, dressed in a faux Catholic school uniform sans shirt and bra.

Grabbing his cell phone, he punched in Sara's code.

"Thank you for calling 1-800-Hot Girl." She answered in a sexy rasp. "Looking for a little motivation, Baby? I'd be happy to…"

"No. Just finished." He closed the magazine and rolled it up in his hand. "But get this…when I was flipping through a copy of Bodacious Babes magazine, guess who I came upon? Tawny!"

After a moment of silence, Sara eked out her question. "Are you telling me you um…used that particular photo to um…that's…oh god, I'm so grossed out….I can't…."

"What? No!" He was appalled she could even entertain the notion. Shouting into the phone, he corrected her misperception. "Of course I didn't use her picture! That's repulsive, Sara! The girl is carrying Greg's child and I know her personally."

"Why the hell do you think I was so freaked out?" She panted with relief.

"I didn't pick up the magazine until after I was done."

"That sounds odd. Why _after_?"

"I needed to pass some time because…." He rolled his eyes at his lackluster communication attempt. "Look…the reason I was calling was to ask you if you think Greg knows she poses? I got the impression he thinks she only strips topless."

"Ugh! The photo is full frontal?"

"No, just topless but it has that filthy barely legal quality to it. Do you think I should tell him?" He tapped the magazine on the counter. "I mean…what if there's even more than this? What if she's done films? Greg was adamant that he didn't want her stripping anymore because he didn't want guys gawking at the mother of his child. If she's in print that will be difficult. I don't want him to be caught off guard one day when someone, like Hodges, comes up to him and says _hey, I saw your baby's mom starring in Tawny Takes on Texas._ Trust me…Greg will react badly."

"What's the date on the magazine?"

Unrolling it, he checked. "March."

"Ugh! I hope you're wearing gloves while you're touching that magazine. Who knows how many DNA samples were deposited on its pages in the last six months."

He groaned. "Yes, Dear, I promise to wash my hands."

"I think you have to tell him. Take the magazine with you and let him question her about it. As much as I'd like to for Greg's sake, I don't trust her yet. But I have trust issues so…maybe I'm not the best judge."

He nodded. "I'll call him after I finish here."

"I thought you were finished?" She snickered.

"I still have to meet with someone to finalize the storage details and complete the designee paperwork." He smiled into the phone. "I have to specify that you have custody because, in case something really did happen to me, even though we're married, it's not automatic."

"Now I can really relax." The relief in her voice rang through the phone. "Thank you for doing this for me."

Once again her words put a smile on his face. "Honey, you've got it all wrong. I should be the one thanking you for wanting a part of me this much." His voice softened, "Thank you, Sara."

"Blame my scientific curiosity…I want to see what the product of our combined DNA will be."

"Speaking of product…" He checked his watch. "I better deliver mine to the lab tech before people start thinking I have a problem performing. The troops have a date with some liquid nitrogen and I with some paperwork. I'll call you when I get home, before I catch some sleep. Bye."

**LVPD  
****Crime Lab  
****10:42 a.m.**

Sara was using the isolation of Grissom's office to work on her reports when his phone rang. Glancing up at the display, she saw a phone number but no name. Deciding to play secretary, she answered, "Gil Grissom's office."

When there was no response, she said, "This is Sara Sidle of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Can I help you with something?"

Because the phone number was still displayed she knew the caller was there. "We must have a bad connection. I can't hear you. If you can hear me, please call back. Thank you."

After hanging up the phone, she waited, but it didn't ring again.

Prompted by her insatiably curious mind, she pressed the last number called feature on the phone and dialed the number.

Five rings later she heard a voice on the end of the line. "Hello."

"Hi, you just called this office and…"

"No, I didn't." The gruff voice said. "I got to the pay phone and it was ringing so I answered it."

"Oh. This is a pay phone?" She grabbed a piece of paper. "Where is it located?"

**Greg's Apartment  
****11:04 a.m. **

Grissom stood outside the door of the second floor apartment, waiting for Greg to answer.

"Hey, Gris. Sorry it took me a minute to answer, I was shutting off the stereo so you wouldn't get a migraine." The tone of Grissom's nebulous phone call still fresh on his mind, Greg warily said, "Come on in. You have me a little freaked out. You're not showing up here to fire me, are you?"

"Why would you think that? Guilty conscience?" He narrowed his eyes to a beady stare. "Did you do something bad at the lab I haven't discovered yet?"

"No!" He shut the door. "It's just in all these years you've never come over, so I figured it can't be good."

"I haven't, have I?" He glanced around at the piles of boxes and clothes littering the place.

"It's a little chaotic because we're moving in Tawny's stuff and…"

"When I called you said she wasn't here."

"She's not. She's at her place getting more stuff." He walked over to the couch and moved piles of her clothes to the floor. "Have a seat."

Grissom did as suggested. "I have something I want to share with you."

Greg, anxious to finally hear what brought his boss here, took a seat next to him.

"Earlier today…" Grissom reached into his blue jacket and pulled out the Bodacious Babes magazine he had taken from the doctor's office. "…I was flipping through this magazine and…take a look at page seventeen."

Greg broke into an amused grin. "I really felt we've been bonding a lot lately, but I'm a little surprised you came here to show me your porn."

"It's not _my_ porn. It belongs to the Fertility Institute. I took it but I didn't steal it…I paid them for it." Realizing his penchant for honesty was digging him deeper into a hole, he groaned. "Look…it doesn't matter how I got it, just look at page seventeen." Then he considered the impression he might have given Greg. "For the record, there's _nothing_ wrong with me, I was making a deposit in a Savings Account that Sara forced me to open after the accident."

"Is she afraid your nuts are gonna get crushed in a freak accident?"

"Yes. Now will you take the damn magazine already?"

"Okay…okay." Greg took it and turned to the specified page.

Grissom saw the disappointment resonating in Greg's eyes. "I take it you didn't know she posed?"

"Uh…no." Tossing the magazine on the coffee table, he crashed against the back of the couch. "Damn it!"

"That's what I was afraid of. I wanted you to find out before it came to light in a more unpleasant situation."

"Here's the thing." Feeling like scum for the hundredth time this week, his emotions soared. "Two weeks ago if you had shown that to me, I would have been _psyched_. I would have shown Warrick and Nick and _bragged_ about the hottie on page seventeen being my daily booty call. Now suddenly I'm appalled. I'm such a friggin' hypocrite!" He grabbed his hair with his hands. "I never thought I was a pig until all of this happened. You wonder how girls end up like Tawny? What chance do they have when guys like me are around taking advantage of them while pretending to be decent? I'm nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing! Do you realize she thought I was a better guy than the rest of the slime that have used her because I brought _breakfast _and didn't leave immediately after the sex! Krispy Kremes! A damn donut made me a decent guy to her!" Rocking back and forth on the couch he moaned. "Oh my god…you_ should_ fire me. I don't have the moral caliber for the job. I'm scum. Scum!"

"Try to calm down for me, okay?" Still learning to deal with his and Sara's emotions, he wasn't practiced at dealing with other people's blow outs. "I uh…I think you're being too hard on yourself first of all. Secondly, the true test of your moral caliber isn't what you did _before_ Tawny told you she was pregnant…it's what you've done since."

"You think so, huh?" Leaning forward, he plunked his head in his hands. "Yesterday…she…she offered to terminate the pregnancy. It was making her sick thinking about it, but she was going to do it as a favor to me because…she thinks I am a good guy who doesn't deserve to be saddled with her and a baby." His voice cracking from the mounting stress he had yet to release because he was determined to be strong for Tawny, he fought to continue. "You know the worst part… how much I wanted to say yes. I wanted to make it all go away…her…the baby…my own baby. One minute I was stressing about my future and the next I saw an easy way out. I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drop all this on you. It's just…you and Sara are the only ones who know and…"

"Greg…" Grissom wrung his hands, uncomfortable from the emotional display. "You're under tremendous pressure. It's okay to be confused. It's a huge decision and not something you want to rush. You have several weeks."

Lifting his head, Greg used the back of his sleeve to dry his eyes. "Have you ever known a person who seemed one trauma away from the point of no return? Someone so damaged by their past that they hid behind a façade hoping no one would ever see their pain? But one day you realize the pain is there and you have to make a choice…you can either support her or be one more disappointment in her life?"

He knew the feeling all too well and his tone reflected the angst it evoked. "A person traumatized by her past. A person looking for someone to finally come through for them…someone who won't turn and run when the going gets tough." In his mind he saw himself outside Sara's hospital room in Tahoe faced with the same decision…support or disappoint. Even though Sara had absolved him, he couldn't get beyond the mistake. Why, he wondered? Is absolution only effective if you've forgiven yourself? When can you absolve yourself? Maybe only when you're in the same situation again and choose differently? "What did you do, Greg?"

His voice steady again, he answered, "I was so close to saying yes. So close. Then I saw the pain in her eyes and…I couldn't do it. In that moment I realized how far I was about to go to save my ass from any pain. When I looked at Tawny, I knew if I made her go through with her offer, it would be the last straw for her. Her self-worth would have sunk so low I don't think she would have recovered." Breathing deep he hoped to steady himself. "That's when I realized it was time to stop thinking about what would be easiest for me. Avoiding pain at her expense wasn't something I could live with the rest of my life. I told her no."

He wasn't sure how long he stared at Greg before asking, "Did you figure all of that out in one day?"

"No. In ten minutes."

"And what was her reaction?" The question really…how would Sara have reacted if I had walked into her hospital room in Tahoe?

His expression lightened. "She was grateful that someone finally cared about her enough to stick around when she needed them. She told me she wasn't used to anyone caring. She clung to me and cried, but for the first time they weren't tears of sorrow, they were tears of joy. That's when I knew I made the right choice." He studied his boss's perplexed expression. "Do you think I made the right choice?"

"Absolutely." He replied without hesitation. "Emerson said, 'self-sacrifice is the real miracle out of which all the reported miracles grow'." When he showed up at Sara's apartment begging for one more chance she sacrificed her pride and in doing so, she gave him a chance at happiness. In return he was there for her a month later when she broke down over her childhood trauma. It's a cycle…give a piece of yourself, reap the rewards of generosity and then give something back again.

"What does that mean exactly?"

"Tawny was willing to sacrifice her peace of mind for yours, but instead of taking from her, you decided to give her something. One act led to another and now the possibilities are endless."

"True…because I have no idea where we'll end up."

"I knew a man who walked away when the going got rough. Unlike you, he left the mother of his child and the child behind. He took the easy way out and he never looked back. He's scum. Don't worry about _your_ moral caliber. You're a different kind of man, Greg. I have no doubt you'll be a great father…except for ruining your child on bad music."

"Funny…I could say the same about you."

The sound of the front door opening interrupted their laughter.

"I'm back," Tawny cheerily announced as she walked in wearing a powder blue tank top, white shorts and rhinestone studded sandals.

The men stood to greet her.

"Mr. Grissom!" She squealed. "I was so happy to hear you got out alive!" Bounding over she opened her arms and, when she reached him, she threw them around his neck. "I didn't know Greg's friend Sara was your wife! My heart was breaking for her when I saw her on TV. I'm so glad there was a happy ending for you! Just like in the movies!"

This was the fourth time he encountered Tawny and the fourth personal space violation he had received from her. "Thank you." Instead of returning the hug, he patted her on the back with his right hand. "I'm fine, really."

Greg sought to rescue his boss from his overly affectionate roommate. "Don't I get a hug?"

Immediately she retreated and tossed her arms around Greg's neck. "Anytime." As she hugged him, her eyes fell upon the skin magazine on the coffee table. "Oh god." She jumped back. "Were the two of you looking at…"

Grissom and Greg cringed when they saw Tawny's mortification. "Is that why you were laughing when I came through the door? It's the only time I ever…" Covering her mouth, she raced to the bathroom and shut the door.

Greg hung his head. "It's like a rollercoaster. Just when I think we're done with the twists…"

"They keep coming. I know the feeling." Hearing her crying in the bathroom, Grissom said, "Look…this is my fault. I'll uh…I'll explain why I had the magazine and assure her we weren't laughing."

"Thank you!" Greg exclaimed. "It will be good practice for dealing with a hormonal pregnant woman." He glanced at the clock on the DVD player. "While you calm her down, I'll grab us some lunch. Subway okay?"

"Ah…" Grissom heard her wailing. "I didn't mean I would…she's hysterical."

"Remember Emerson?" Greg smiled. "Please give me a little self-sacrifice because I really need the mental break. Please?"

Overflowing with trepidation, he replied, "Make mine turkey on wheat no mayo."

"I won't forget this!" He ran to the door so Grissom had no time to change his mind.

Standing outside the bathroom door listening to Tawny's sobs, Grissom fought the urge to flee. "Uh…Tawny." He rapped lightly. "I'd really like to clear things up about the magazine. I swear we weren't laughing at you. Could you um…could you come out and give me a chance to explain?"

"I'm too embarrassed," She blurted.

"Well uh…I'm embarrassed for having the magazine. So since we're equally embarrassed we cancel each other out, right?" He leaned against the wall. "But it's okay…I can talk to you from out here if you prefer."

A moment later she opened the door. With a wad of tissues in her hand, she stepped out of the room. "It was the only time I ever posed," She sniffled. "I was seeing this guy and he arranged it without me knowing. He told me it was for him for Valentine's Day. Like an idiot, I signed some paper without reading it through. I thought it was just the photographer's policy information…you know like you can't make copies on your own." She paused to blow her nose. "Next thing I know…I'm in the magazine. Pretty shitty thing for him to do, huh?"

"Very." He avoided looking directly into her red swollen eyes.

"I was so stupid. I shouldn't have signed the paper without reading. I know you're a genius so you're probably thinking this kind of stupidity is pretty typical for a high school dropout."

"Don't be too sure." He smiled. "How do you think KTBC was able to show that intimate footage of Sara and me? We signed a paper, but we didn't specify that only direct interview footage could be shown. The paper gave them permission to air anything shot that day. Sara and I both have Ph.Ds and we made the same mistake. But our real mistake, yours too, was trusting someone we shouldn't have trusted, right?"

Blotting the last of her tears, she nodded and walked over to the couch.

Once he joined her, taking a seat next to her, he told her what someone should have told her years ago. "Tawny, most people aren't to be trusted."

"Yeah…I've had a chance to learn that lesson dozens of times, but it doesn't seem to sink in."

"Because you were still hoping it wasn't true." Glancing away he remarked, "It's something I learned when I was ten and it stuck with me a little too well. See the thing is, I said _most_ people aren't to be trusted, not _all _people. You went to one extreme and gave everyone a chance to prove the theory wrong and got burned every time. I went in the opposite direction. I didn't give anyone a chance and while I missed out on the pain of getting burned, I almost missed out on living. Neither of us was wise, but intelligence had nothing to do with why we did what we did."

"What about Greg?" She softly asked. "I trust him"

He returned his gaze to her. "He's definitely someone you can trust. And so am I."

"Why did you bring the magazine?" She asked hoping there was a decent explanation.

"It was in a medical office and when I saw you were in there, I thought Greg should know because he believed you only stripped."

Her baffled expression supported her question. "Why would they have porn in a medical office?"

"Uh…" Flustered by the inquiry, he released a nervous chuckle. "Okay, if you knew me better, you'd know I never divulge personal information so…this is huge. It was a fertility place. Sara and I are trying to have a baby and she wanted me to…um…store something…you know, in case things don't work out naturally and we have to take more invasive measures one day. These places put magazines in the room for guys who need a little motivation. Not that I did! And certainly not with _that_ particular magazine. I saw it afterwards when I was waiting for the Lab Tech."

He watched her staring straight ahead. "Are you okay?"

In the lost voice of a little girl, she asked, "You a very smart man so maybe you can answer this for me. Do you think…when people die…can they see what we're doing? Are they watching us?" Turning to face him, she said, "Since I was sixteen I've been doing things that I would never want my father to know. Do you think he knows? If he knows he must hate me."

"That's a…people, depending on their spiritual background, will answer that differently."

"What's your answer? You're about fifty. Is your father dead?"

"My father stopped watching what I was doing when I was a boy." Leaning back against the couch, he sighed, trying to find an intellectual response that would also bring her peace. "Do I think people who have died can literally see the things we are doing? No, I don't believe they can. I think that's a tool that people use to enforce guilt or behavior or any number of things religions like to impose."

"So he doesn't know the things I've done." A fresh set of tears began welling. "Because he loved me so much and was always so proud of me."

"If he could see, don't you think he would feel far worse about leaving you vulnerable than he would about anything you've done?" His question caused the dam holding her tears to break. And in that moment of raw vulnerability he asked the burning question, not for his sake or Greg's, but for hers. "Why did you run away from home, Tawny?"

Only one time in his life had he seen pain manifest itself so strongly…the day Sara told him about her parents.

"_Sara?" He called out as he walked down the hall toward the bathroom. "Honey, are you sure you're okay?" When she didn't answer, he knocked lightly. "Can I come in?" Getting no response, he tried the doorknob which he was relieved to find unlocked. "Sara…" _

_Peering inside, he saw her sitting in the corner of the bathroom, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Honey, what is it?" He rushed to her side. "Whatever it is you can tell me." _

_Trying to catch her breath she replied, "I…I think I need help. I've never told anyone this before…" _

"I've never told anyone this before," She sobbed. "About a year after my dad died, my mom…she let her boyfriend move in with us. At first it was great, he really seemed to care about me like a daughter but then…he started looking at me funny…leering. One day, when my mom was at work he um…he started touching me and kissing me. He made me touch him. It was a week before my sixteenth birthday and he was forty. I was so scared. I couldn't wait to tell my mom so she could kick him out, but when I told her she called me a liar. She wasn't like that with my dad, but this guy…she needed him I guess…needed him more than me anyway. She chose her new family over me. I knew if I stayed it would only be a matter of time before he…" Unable to continue, she collapsed against Grissom's body.

"You're safe now," He soothed as he forced himself beyond his comfort zone and wrapped his arm around her. "Believe me, I know it hurts to have a parent choose someone else over you. But it was your mother's choice and it wasn't based on anything you did. You can't blame yourself for her choice. It's easy to do, but you need to stop." It was a lesson he figured out pretty quickly after his father abandoned him.

"But maybe I did something to make him think…maybe my clothes or…"

"Stop! He was with your mother and he was forty years old…you were fifteen." His sadness flashed into anger. Lifting her out of his arms, he gently gripped her shoulders. "There is _no_ excuse that justifies his behavior. None! Do you hear me? If you were telling me this as a fifteen year old, I'd be nailing the guy's ass to the wall for child molestation. What he did is a crime. If there was physical evidence in existence today, I'd go after him right now. You did nothing wrong. He did. Tell me you understand that."

"I've never seen you get angry."

"Very few things in life make me angry…this is one of them. The things I've seen and heard…it builds over time." He exhaled sharply. "Now…I'm still waiting for you to tell me you understand you did nothing wrong."

She swallowed hard. "I …understand."

"Good." When he released his grip, he said, "Now, I want you to promise you'll do something." He reached for his wallet and pulled out Dr. Myers' business card and gave it to her. "She's an excellent doctor. I consult with her on special cases. She's had great success with her patients. Don't worry about paying her because she does pro-bono work if I arrange it."

"Pro-bono?"

"It means she'll work for you without you compensating her." He smiled. "Give me a day to set it up with her office and then call for an appointment. Promise me you'll see her, because the issues you have to deal with are bigger than you or Greg can handle."

"I promise." A smile found it way to her face. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Grabbing the magazine off the coffee table, he ripped it in two. "Now let's throw this away."

"Please!" She followed him into the kitchen. "The trash is under the sink."

When he opened the cabinet door he saw the plastic container and tossed the publication.

"Do you think every fertility clinic has a copy?"

"I don't know but…" He chuckled. "…knowing my wife, I'll probably be at every one at some point. It's only a matter of time before she panics about cyroprotection facilities failure and has me securing a backup site."

"Well, if you see one anywhere, anytime, please destroy it."

"I promise."

While they were in the kitchen, the front door swung open. "I'm back." Greg was thrilled to see Tawny out and not hysterical.

"I'll take my sandwich to go." Grissom hurried over and snatched the bag Greg was extending. "Have a good night at work. And Tawny, don't forget to do what I asked."

"I won't let you down," She replied with the verve of an eager child.

After a quick nod, Grissom fled the apartment, grateful to be out of the hot zone. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed his cell phone and quickly paged through the directory until he found the number for Dr. Myers. He was at his car door when her secretary answered.

"Dr. Myers's office, Tracy speaking."

"Hi, Tracy, it's Gil Grissom."

"Hello, Mr. Grissom. We were so relieved you came out of the building accident without harm. We were worried about Sara too." A light chuckle radiated through the phone. "Until we saw the two of you on the news. Then we knew you were both fine."

"Yeah…we've been hearing a lot about that." He opened his car and slipped inside. "Hey, I was calling because I need to set up something. I have a new patient I need Dr. Myers to see. Same deal as Sara. Bill everything to me, but do you think you can do me a favor? I don't want this person to know I'm footing the bill. I told her it would be pro bono. Think Dr. Myers would mind if we kept the financial arrangement a secret from the patient? She's the girlfriend of a friend and I want to help them." He flipped the ignition while waiting for a reply.

"We've done it before when there's a good reason. I don't see a problem."

"Great. Her name is Tawny and she'll be calling tomorrow. She'll probably be a little nervous."

"I'll make sure she gets the royal treatment."

"Thanks, Tracy. Have a good day."

"You too, Mr. Grissom. Bye."

No sooner did he hang up the phone than did it ring. "Grissom."

Silence was the only response.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" Pulling the phone away he checked the caller ID, the number was there but the name came up as…_unavailable_. "We must have a bad connection. I can't hear you." He clicked off the phone and then dialed back the number. Ten rings later, he hung up. "Must have been a wrong number."

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

"**Repercussions Part 7"**

**August 6, 2005 (Day 106)  
****The Grissoms'  
****11:54 a.m. **

After tossing his Subway bag on the kitchen counter, Grissom headed to the fridge for a drink. As soon as he opened the door, he burst out laughing. Sara had dangled a detailed note from one of the shelves. Anxious to read it, he ripped it down and grabbed a bottle of water.

_Dear Gil, _

_I know you must be famished from your workout at the bank, but don't pig out even if you desperately want to! Because even though it might have seemed like hard work, you only burned 150 calories maximum. Probably much less because we both know you're very efficient. You said you started training well before the age of 14 so I went with age 12. Algebra Girl didn't come along until you were 24._

_24 – 12 x where x represents # of years solo before Algebra Girl_

_x equals 12 years solo_

_Yeah…I'm thinking 100 calories at the most. Probably 50 because who knows how much more efficient you got when you were trying to figure out what to do about us. _

_Please note that while you were working last night, I took the liberty of purging the pantry and fridge of all forbidden foods. Now we have no mammal meat, alcohol, fatty foods or sugary snacks in the house. I think this qualifies us to join some restrictive religious cult. Well, we could join as long as the cult still allows us to fool around. Which brings me to my next point… _

_Did you know that vigorously kissing (like the kind we did on TV for the entire Vegas metro area) burns 5 calories per minute! _

_5 (# of minutes spent kissing) x_

_5 (2) equals 10 calories (a stick of gum!)_

_5 (10) equals 50 (half of an apple!)_

_5 (20) equals 100 (one medium sized banana!)_

_5 (60) equals 300 (a Subway Turkey sandwich!) _

_I think my point is obvious…the more you kiss me, the more you get to eat. _

_Did you know that making love burns 110 calories per every 15 minutes? And if you 'finish in a blaze of glory' you burn 75 bonus calories (I don't know about you, but I always went for the extra credit points on exams). _

_110 (# of 15 minute intervals) + 75 x_

_110 (2) + 75 equals 295 (Not too shabby) _

_110(4) + 75 equals 590 (Wow! That's an entire meal!)_

_So I'm thinking, if you kiss me for an hour each day and make love to me twice every day for an hour each time, you'll burn roughly 1500 calories per day. And think of the cardiac benefits of all that physical activity daily. You'll never even have to get on a treadmill! _

_The problem of course is we're only home together for 3 consecutive hours each day. But if we put the kissing portion of the workout in the middle I think you might be up for the challenge. _

_When exactly is Jim going to figure out a new arrangement for you and me? Because, as I'm sure you can tell by the length of this note, I'm bored tonight and I miss you_

_Your devoted wife and health enforcer, _

_Sara _

_P.S. Why did I underline certain words? _

Grinning, he crumpled his sandwich wrapper and then lunged for a pen in the middle of the counter. One by one he jotted the underlined words on the bottom of her note…._Gil, I desperately want to vigorously kiss and make love to you tonight! Sara_

With the note in hand, he walked over to the phone eager to call her.

When he picked up the cordless, he noticed the voice mail light blinking. Putting his plan to call Sara on hold for a moment, he clicked the message button.

_Hi, Gil and Sara, it's Wendy Blake. Carrie says hi too. I'm calling for two reasons, first…to say we were so relieved that the accident left you unharmed. Second…Sean was really concerned about you and I think it would mean the world to him if I could swing him by to swap books and see that you're really okay. I know you're very busy so whenever you have a chance, please call. 555-4217. Thanks and oh…loved seeing you on TV._

Smiling, he dialed Sara's number.

After only one ring, she answered. "Sorry, I'm with my boss right now so I won't be able to provide any illicit phone services. If you leave your name and phone number I'll be happy to call back at a more erotic time."

"Sorry, I can't wait, I'll have to call someone else."

"Have you opened the fridge yet, Gil?"

"Yes, I did." Grinning, he held up the note.

"Did the algebra get you hot and bothered?"

"Not in comparison to the message I made from your underlined words."

"And?"

"And I'm looking forward to it later tonight but before we start burning calories, there's somewhere I want to take you. One thing though…I hope you don't mind but, I'd like to bring a special guest."

"Are we going to the body farm?" She asked excitedly.

"No." Lighting up, he added, "But I have to take time out to say that it thrills me to know that my wife would be excited if I was taking her to the body farm on a Saturday night. You really are the only woman for me."

"Just don't get me chocolate covered grasshoppers again on Valentine's Day."

Confounded that she _still _didn't believe him, he grimaced. "That was a joke, Sara."

"It wasn't funny watching you eat one."

"I promise I won't bring any on our adventure tonight."

"You gonna tell me where we're going and with whom?"

"Nope." He chuckled lightly. "Isn't it about time for a little surprise?"

**Ely State Prison  
****12:02 p.m. **

After the intensive check-in procedure, Ben Rodgers entered the maximum security visitor's area and searched for his brother behind one of the thick plexiglass windows. It was the same tedious routine every other Saturday but it was worth it to keep his unjustly imprisoned brother's spirits up. After all, it wouldn't be forever. The appeals process was in the works and it would only be a matter of time before they'd be reunited on the other side of the razor ribbon fence.

Ben took a seat, lifted the phone receiver and feigned an upbeat mood. "Hey, little Bro. Still doing okay in the general pop?"

"Holding my own instead of having someone else hold it for me," He snapped. "And don't worry about telling me, I already know."

"Yeah." He nodded. "I thought you might."

Through gritted teeth he unleashed his anger. "How the hell did he survive a god damn building collapsing on top of him? Huh? It was a friggin tease, man! I was _this close_ to celebrating the demise of the son of a bitch responsible for starting this nightmare and then they pull him from the god damn building. And then what do I find out?" Rage boiling inside him he fought to stay calm so he wouldn't be escorted out. "He has _my _life. That should have been _me_ married to Sara. I can't believe I'm locked in here guarding my ass while that impotent bastard has hers! If only I got to screw her before he found us in Tahoe. Shit…he'd be suffering with that his whole god damn life and never be able to enjoy her…but no, I didn't even get to ruin her for him."

His brother's pain during these visits tore him apart. "You know we're gonna get you out of here."

"How long is that gonna take, huh?" His spit sprayed the phone. "I'm dying in here! I get one hour of fresh air a day. One friggin hour while that pompous ass and his smug sidekick Stokes can go wherever they please. You know what keeps me going in here, Ben? You know the_ only_ thing that keeps me going?"

He was grateful something did. He was also grateful their mother had died before any of this happened because she would have suffered terribly knowing her baby boy was framed by two scientists and sent to prison. "What keeps you going Mike?"

Gripping the phone, he snarled, "The thought that one day I'll find a way to make them all pay for setting me up and ruining my life. And while I'm trapped in here, I have nothing but time to think about _how_."

**Crime Lab  
****2:04 p.m.**

Nick and Sara simultaneously plopped down on the couch in the break room.

"She wants you to pick out your tux already?" Sara quizzed. "The wedding isn't for six months!"

"And this is Carrie we're talking about. The girl was named Most Likely to Organize the World in High School."

"True." Chuckling, Sara took the Bridal magazine from Nick's hands. "So what are the choices?"

"She's got sticky notes marking the pages." He relaxed against the cushions. "It makes absolutely no difference to me, so pick whatever you like. I could marry her wearing a jockstrap and be the happiest man alive."

"How would you explain your wedding photo to your kids?" She asked as she flipped from choice to choice.

"Speaking of kids." He eyed her suspiciously. "How many are you planning on having with Gris?"

She didn't look up from the page she was staring at. "What makes you think we're having any?"

"Well I kind of got a clue when you blurted out, _now we won't get to have a baby together_, at the accident scene."

"You always were a perceptive CSI." Holding up the magazine she pointed. "This tux for sure and to answer your question…one."

"One?" Nick vehemently shook his head. "You can't do that. Only children are messed up."

"That's Warrick, Greg, Gil and me you're talking about."

"Thanks for making my point," He teased. "And what's up with you calling Grissom, Gil all of a sudden. It's so weird."

"Not as weird as calling my husband by his last name."

"True."

"How many kids are you and Carrie planning on having?"

"We're thinking four would be nice." He took the magazine and bent the corner of the page Sara selected. "The plan, assuming we're medically fine, is to start trying on our first wedding anniversary and then pop them out every two years."

"Does she already have names picked?"

"Hell yeah. Don't you?"

"We talked about Vito once." A nostalgic laugh ensued. "It was the name of our limo driver in San Francisco." The memory warmed her. "What time is it?"

"2:15. You got a hot date tonight?"

"Yes, it's Grissom's night off and he's taking me somewhere. It's a surprise." She jumped up from the couch. "Okay, Boss, my break is over."

**Catherine's House  
****5:09 p.m.**

Through the front window of the house, Warrick and Catherine watched the realtor hang her shingle from the _For Sale_ sign.

"There…it's official," Catherine announced while smoothing her hands over Warrick's black silk shirt.

"Any second thoughts?"

"No, but I just had a first thought." Fiendishly she smiled as she let her hands wander. "Lindsay's at her friend's house for the night, we got seven hours of deep sleep, my headache from the accident is _finally_ gone and we don't have to be at work for four hours."

"So you want to go out and catch a movie?" He asked while untucking her shirt.

"Noooo…I want to stay in and make one of our own." Jumping up she knew he would catch her and when he did…she threw her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist and planted a pent-up kiss firmly on his mouth. "It's been five days," She gasped upon coming up for air. "Five long days."

"Longest it's ever been." His arms clutching her tight, he hurried toward the bedroom.

"Just think…in the new house we'll have all new places."

"Maybe we should list our top five desires," He growled as he tossed her on the bed and devoured her with his eyes.

"First I want you to tear my…"

"For the house, Baby." Yanking his shirt over his head, he said, "Because I know what your top five are in bed." He covered her body with his. "In the new house…I think we need an oversized shower."

"I get it now," she purred as she explored his sculpted back with her eager hands. "We'll need a Jacuzzi."

"Oh yeah." Freeing her of her clothes, he added, "And a pool in a _very_ private back yard."

"Yes, better to skinny dip in my Dear, and…oh!" Suddenly, as he began to fulfill desire number two, she lost her train of thought. "I guess we'll talk later."

**The Blake's  
****5:17 p.m. **

When Paul Blake saw Grissom at his front door, he cheerily exclaimed, "Welcome, Gil, it's great to see you again."

Grissom extended his hand. "Nice to see you again, too."

While shaking hands Paul said, "Sorry I was out of town when you and Sara came over for dinner. I heard it was quite a disaster."

The two men walked into the living room.

"It was eye opening," Grissom politely replied, "but we enjoyed it. You have a wonderful family."

"I'm truly blessed." Then he broke out laughing, "But I'm very excited you're taking Sean off our hands tonight, because Ryan has a sleepover at a friend's house and the neighbor offered to watch McKenna and Ashley. Now Wendy and I can grab dinner and a movie. We haven't been out in over a month. You see, we love our kids to death, but when an opportunity arises for a little quality time out, we're more than willing to pawn them off."

"Good, I feel better about this then." Grissom awkwardly broached the delicate subject that was on his mind. "I was worried you might be offended that Sean wanted to spend time with me. It's not my intent to…"

"Are you kidding?" Paul placed his hand on Grissom's shoulder. "Sean and I are very close in many ways but, when it comes to Science, I'm no role model for him. Business and football are my areas of expertise. I'm thrilled he has you to help him develop his intellectual gifts. Besides, after what you did to help my wife, I think of you as part of our extended family. With Rodgers behind bars paying for his crime, a guilty burden was lifted from Wendy's soul and she's a new woman."

Not entirely comfortable with the depth of Paul's gratitude, Grissom stammered, "I'm uh…glad I could help…and can help with Sean. He has a gift and it would be a shame not to foster it."

Paul took a few steps back to peer down the hall. "Wendy is helping him pack the books you loaned him. I guess they're not done yet."

"I'm amazed at how fast he plows through them and what he retains." Shoving his hands in his pockets, he sighed, "He's far more advanced than I was at his age. I think it helps that he has such a supportive home environment."

"We do our best to help him. Genius is a gift and a curse for Sean," Paul acknowledged. "It's been really difficult for him to fit in at school. We won't let him advance further than one grade because he's already socially challenged. We augment his learning outside of school, but it's never been enough. That's why his interaction with you is so helpful academically." He smiled at Grissom. "Here's another reason I think Sean was glad to meet you. He'stwelve now and I think some new thoughts are weighing on him. He sees you happy with Sara and finally realizes one day he'll be able to get a great girl like his jock brother. This stuff starts much younger than when we were kids. Ryan already has girls calling him."

The statement put a smile on Grissom's face. "Then I'll be sure not to let him know how long it took me to find the right girl." He was glad Sara wasn't around to hear him say that, because she would have elbowed him and barked, _it would have been a hell of a lot sooner if you would have listened to me you big dope!_

"Mr. Grissom!"

"Hey, Sean."

The boy tore through the room. "Thanks so much for making time for me tonight!"

"Are you kidding?" He smiled at the boy. "Sara and I are thrilled you want to hang out with us."

Wendy handed over the large backpack. "That's right, Sean. Mr. and Mrs. Grissom need practice with kids because they might have their own one day…maybe in less than a year…from what Carrie tells me."

"Maybe one day," He sheepishly replied.

"My mom wouldn't tell me where you're taking me. Where are we going?"

"We're taking you somewhere to study gravity." Grissom glanced up at Paul. "What time do you want him home? Or should I say, until what time do the two of you want to stay out?

"We'll be back by ten thirty so any time after that."

"Bye, dad." Sean gave his father a big hug, hoping to expedite the process. "Bye, mom," He kissed her cheek. "Okay let's go!"

"We'll see you later."

**Greg's Apartment  
****5:30 p.m. **

While Greg was hanging her clothes in his closet, Tawny was sitting on the bedroom floor sifting through an old shoebox. "I want to show you something," She softly said.

He walked over and took a seat next to her. "What?"

"A picture of me with my dad." She handed him the photo. "It's at my fourteenth birthday party, about two months before he died. We were out to dinner with my mom and three of my best friends."

Looking at the happy girl with the ponytail hugging her dad, surrounded by wholesome girlfriends, it was easy to imagine her as an innocent and unburdened teenager. "You look like you were having a great time."

"We were." Retrieving the photo, she returned it to the box. "I just wanted you to see I wasn't always like I am now."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you right now." He placed a hand on her knee. "A person isn't only defined by the job they do. Sure…when I met you I thought of you as a stripper and nothing more, but that was me not wanting to go beyond the surface to get to know you. It doesn't mean there wasn't more to you. Now that I've taken some time to get to know you, I'm learning wonderful things about you all the time." He curiously asked, "Let me learn more…what else do you have in that box?"

"More photos and old stuff I don't know why I'm keeping a lot of it."

Gently, he prodded, "Can I see?" He took the box from her hands and retrieved another photo. "You were a cheerleader?" She looked like Miss All American in her red, white and blue uniform and ponytails.

"Junior Varsity Basketball." She smiled. "I was the only freshman who made the squad. Really ticked off Becky Townsend."

"I bet." He returned the photo and selected another. "Who is this?"

"Bobby Donahue. Took me to the eighth grade graduation dance." Giggling, she covered her mouth with her hands. "I only let him kiss me on the cheek and he called me a prude. Hard to believe now, I know. Imagine what he would have said if he came to Vegas on business and saw me shaking it at Tweeters."

"I couldn't even get a date for my eighth grade dance."

"Were you too short?"

"Short…geeky...pimply…verbally challenged around girls…you name the deficiency and I had it." He pulled a folded white piece of paper from the box.

"You're none of those things now, Greg." Then she chuckled lightly. "Well…you're still a little geeky but I find it very attractive."

"Speaking of geeks." In shock, he held up her freshman year report card. "Straight A's, Tawny Ann Cooper? Chemistry and Algebra in freshman year?"

"I used to be pretty smart," She confessed as she lowered her eyes to the floor. "My dad…he was a high school math teacher. He always talked about the value of education. That's why it was so important for me to at least get my GED."

"Barring serious physical damage to the brain, a person doesn't suddenly stop being smart, Tawny." Reaching out, he clasped her hand. "This straight-A student is still in you."

"You really think so?"

"Hell yeah." He smiled. "She's probably a little rusty at chemical formulas and the quadratic equations, but with the right tutor helping refresh her memory…" He winked. "…I'm sure she could make a quick comeback."

"And do what?"

"Do anything you want. Go to college. Find a career you love."

"An ex-stripper going to college and having a successful intellectual career. Yeah…how often does that happen?"

"I don't know how often, but I know a great example." He squeezed her hand a little tighter. "Catherine…the woman who was with Grissom at the Cheesecake Factory when you met him. She stripped while going to college and now she's the highest ranking CSI after Grissom."

"You're shittin' me."

"Ask anyone…Grissom, Sara, even Catherine. It's not a secret."

"Really?" Suddenly she saw a possibility and then she remembered. "But we're having a baby, how can I…"

"People do it all the time. You can study online for a while. And after the baby is here, with my hours, I'll be here to watch the baby while you take classes in the morning."

"You would do that?" Her love for him grew once more.

"Did you think you were going to have to take care of our baby 24/7?"

"Well um…" It all sounded good but her confidence was lacking. "I don't know if I'll be good at school anymore."

He tugged her until she was standing beside him. "Only one way to find out."

**The Grissoms'  
****5:45 p.m. **

Since they would be leaving shortly, Grissom left his car in the driveway instead of pulling into the garage. "I'll grab your backpack out of the trunk, Sean," Grissom informed the boy. "Then we'll exchange books while Sara finishes getting ready."

"Why do girls take so long to get ready?" He inquired as he hopped out of the car. "My mom is always the one who makes us late. My dad doesn't seem to care, but it drives me crazy."

"Uh…" Grissom popped open the trunk. "One reason is they usually have more hair to deal with. They don't just wash their hair and let it dry like guys…well guys except Greg Sanders, he works with me and he has crazy hair. Women, they do all kinds of stuff to their hair…condition it, blow dry it, curl it, flatten it, spray it. It's unbelievable." He tossed the pack on his shoulder. "I never really knew how much effort it took until I shared a bathroom with one."

"I'm really glad I was born XY instead of XX."

"I hear you. I'm thankful for my Y chromosome every day." Smiling, he shut the trunk. "Because dealing with their hair is easy compared to some of the other annoying stuff women have to put up with."

"Like they can't pee standing up."

"Exactly." He laughed. It wasn't what he was thinking, but it was a good example. "I need to grab the mail first."

As Sean followed him to the mailbox in the corner of the front yard, he remarked, "And women have to have the babies."

"Yeah…that's another good example."

"My mom says if men had to have the babies the world would be much less crowded because they couldn't handle it and they'd never have more than one kid."

Grissom laughed as he retrieved the mail. "I think your mom is right."

"Get anything good?" Sean inquired as Grissom flipped through the pile. "Yes." He handed over a copy of Entomology Today.

"Cool!" He beamed with delight.

"I already have that issue so you can keep it. I'm on a couple of mailing lists so I get duplicates. I'll be sure to pass on future editions as well."

"You're the best, Mr. Grissom!" Overcome with excitement he gave him a quick hug.

Seeing a reflection of himself in Sean's enthusiasm, Grissom smiled. "Come on…let's find you some new books."

"Let's go!" He raced to the front door and rang the bell.

At the mailbox, Grissom found himself imagining a similar scene with his own child.

"Hi, Sean," Sara warmly greeted. "I've got milk and cookies on the counter for you."

"Mr. Grissom said you didn't have any good food," Sean blurted.

"I picked this up on the way home just for you." Because she had figured out it would be Sean. Who else would Grissom think worthy of including on their date than a budding Entomologist with a higher IQ than him?

"Thanks!" He rushed inside.

Sara saw her husband leaning against the mailbox staring into space and decided to step out and greet him. "Honey…" She crossed the perfectly manicured lawn until she was standing in front of him. "Penny for your thoughts."

With his free hand, he circled her waist and pulled her close for a passionate kiss.

"The neighbors could be watching!" She giddily exclaimed as she backed away.

"It's nothing they haven't seen on TV before," He assured her while taking her hand. "Ready for a little road trip?"

"A road trip and it's not the body farm?"

"Nope."

Hand in hand they walked toward the house.

"Give me a hint."

"Gravity."

"One more."

"Serious airtime."

Her smile curved wider. "We driving to Primm?"

"You know it." He held the door open for her. "I promised you, didn't I?"

And now she knew why Sean was really there.

When they disappeared into the house and the door closed, the man sitting in a parked car down the street tossed his newspaper onto the passenger seat.

_He has a son,_ the man thought…_the boy looked to be about ten but the newspaper said Gil only married eight days ago. The child seemed much closer to Gil than to Sara, so he must be from a previous relationship Gil had with another woman._ The man grinned…the discovery of the son was very good news…an unexpected bonus, but now he had to rethink his plan of attack.

**Greg's Apartment  
****6:04 p.m.**

Sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen counter, Tawny stared at the latest piece of paper Greg slid in front of her.

6x – 17 equals 7

"It's been six years, Greg," She reminded him in an exasperated sigh. "The other stuff was easy, but this…"

"It will come right back. Watch." He picked up the pencil and showed her the first step. "Remember, x is called your variable, and the first thing you want to do is get rid of everything on the same side of the equation as the variable. So you add seventeen to both sides in order to eliminate the seventeen on the side with the variable."

6x equals24

"Now you want to do the same thing again. The coefficient of six is the only thing left with the variable so you divide both sides of the equation by six to…"

"x equals four."

"You got it."

Clapping her hands she said, "Give me another one."

5y + 15 equals 30

Greg patiently instructed, "Remember, the first thing you do is…"

"y equals 3!"

Dropping the pencil, he stared at Tawny. "I think we know which online college course you're taking first."

"You really think I should try?"

"You're only twenty-two. Kids leave high school and bum around Europe and the beaches of Indonesia until they're twenty-two then come back and start college."

"Okay, even though I worked at Club _Paradise_ for years I hardly think I can pretend I was killing time on the beach."

"Who has to know what you were doing?" He smiled. "And what does it matter what anyone else thinks as long as you know who you really are?" Reaching out, he brushed her golden blonde locks behind her ear. "As far as I'm concerned, you're the perfect trifecta...beautiful, fun and smart."

Gazing into his eyes, she longed for him to say more and do more. "Greg… I really want to…"

"Wow, look at the time!" Retreating from her and the confusing feelings he was experiencing, he crossed the room. "I have to get in the shower and get to work. It's Gris's night off and I promised I'd go in early to clear some backlog just in case we got swamped tonight." When he hit the bathroom door, he shouted back. "I'll get the computer set up for you before I go. You can poke around online while I'm gone. Maybe see what subjects interest you. Okay?"

"Great." Picking up the pencil he left on the counter, she drew a heart in the corner of the paper and sighed. "I'm picking up right where I left off at Freemont High…crushing on a sweet boy who's not sure if he likes me." In the heart she wrote their initials…GS + TC. "There's an equation I really like." Next she turned over the paper and jotted another problem.

2x + 12(2x + 4) equals 4x – 3

"Negative five," She quickly answered before whispering, "Greg was right, I've still got it."

**Primm, Nevada  
****Buffalo Bill's Casino Resort  
****7:53 p.m.**

Standing in awe of the fastest and tallest roller coaster he had ever seen, Sean's eyes were wide as saucers.

"It's the Desperado, Sean." Grissom gushed with excitement. "It's the best Nevada has to offer. Think you're game?"

"Oh yeah."

Sara watched her husband revert to childhood before her eyes. "What's so special about this one, Honey?" It was a leading question and she looked forward to him going into uber-geek overdrive.

"The Desperado is a _hypercoaster_, meaning it has at least one drop over 200 feet, and it's one of the fastest, tallest and longest coasters in the country. It's on a lot of people's top ten lists, including mine." With school-boy enthusiasm he continued his diatribe. "Hypercoasters don't loop or invert because looping and inverting costs you speed and hypercoasters are all about speed…and acceleration and g-forces but most importantly…they're about airtime. And when you're a roller coaster enthusiast…airtime is what it's all about."

"Airtime?" Sean asked.

Sara patted her stomach. "Butterflies in your belly." Then she grinned at her husband. "I worked in bugs while talking about rollercoasters, how cool am I?"

Totally enamored, he replied, "You're pretty cool for a girl, isn't she Sean?"

"Yeah she's cool because she's really smart, but I also like her because she smells like sugar cookies instead of roses or that stinky stuff my Aunt Carrie wears. Nick must like it though because I caught him licking her neck."

Sara laughed with her husband. "Thanks for thinking I'm cool, Sean. And thanks for that tidbit on Nick. I'll make sure to tease him about it."

The screams of the latest riders caught their ears.

"You hear that, Sean?" Grissom's grin overpowered his face. Those screams are the direct result of a hypercoasters sole purpose for existence…to terrorize its riders. The Desperado pulls close to 4 G's. In comparison, astronauts on the space shuttle only feel 3.2 G's upon take-off."

"Really?" Sara looked at the coaster in a whole new light.

"The first drop, at 225 feet, clocks close to 90 mph. Second drop…155 feet of beautiful corkscrew. At three points during the ride you'll near zero gravity. Yep…5,483 feet in two minutes and forty-three seconds. It's quite a rush. So what are we waiting for?"

"Let's go!" Sean chomped at the bit.

"You know…" Sara shoved her hands in her pockets. "I think I'll let the two of you ride it first and see what you look like after."

Sean blurted, "She's chicken!"

"I think she is." Grissom took her hand. "Why are you scared?"

"I um…never rode one of these hypercoasters before and the one time I went up in the Space Shuttle the 3.2 G's really got to me."

Sean, clutching his head, spit his words. "You went up in the Space Shuttle! Then you're WAY cooler than I thought!"

"No…no." Sara shook with laughter. "I was only joking."

"Oh. Because then you would have been WAY cooler."

"I still think you're WAY cool," Grissom assured her.

"Go ahead you two." She shooed them. "I'll be right here waiting for you when you come back with your heads scrambled and your guts twisted."

Grissom teased, "Sean, if you think kissing a girl is gross then you better turn your head because I'm going for it."

"Thanks for the warning!" Sean returned his gaze to the coaster.

After Grissom kissed her, he whispered. "I know you're not really scared."

Knowing she was busted, she shoved him. "Get out of here."

This time they took her advice.

Before she rode, she wanted to enjoy watching the two of them ride together. She wanted to watch her husband get a little closure. Today he'd ride the Desperado with Sean and tomorrow he wouldn't disappear from Sean's life. He'd still be there giving him books and discussing the wonders of maggots.

When they reached the platform she waved and while she watched them board the ride…someone was watching her.

He watched her smile.

He watched her love her husband.

Two minutes and forty-three seconds later Sara saw Gil and Sean return looking exhilarated instead of terrorized. A minute later they were at her side.

"You have to do it, Mrs. Grissom!" Sean panted. "It was awesome!"

"How about it, Mrs. Grissom?" Gil took her hand and brushed a kiss over the back of it. "Sean told me he wants to ride solo this time so the seat next to me is available."

"Okay…I'm ready to be terrorized." She led the way.

"How many times can we ride, Mr. Grissom?" Sean hoped the answer was more than twice.

"It's August in Vegas and there's not much of a line so I'll buy you as many rides as you want."

"Do you think the girl will hurl?" Sean teased.

"I heard that, punk."

"Watch it, she's feisty," Grissom warned. "But between you and me…I think she will hurl after her third ride."

"I heard that, punk. Them's bettin' words."

Sean rolled his eyes. "Nice going…guess you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

Sara turned around laughing. "Where did you hear that?"

"My mom says it to my dad whenever he does something dumb." He shrugged. "But I've never actually seen him sleeping on it, so I don't really get it."

Grissom winked at his wife. "Take a mental note for the Feasibility Study…must be able to deal with our child telling all our secrets."

"Sorry, it's not a good enough reason to end the study. Remember…no turning back." In his ear she whispered, "The only part left of the study is whether it's _physically_ feasible and hopefully we'll have an affirmative answer to that this time next month."

"Three tickets," Sean told the cashier on behalf of the group.

"Okay, if I keep my cookies down and make it four times, you'll owe me what?" Sara pondered the possibilities.

"Just don't say…"

"The answers to any three questions I choose to ask."

"…that." He glanced up at the first drop. "You're on."

When Sara was in the front seat of the first car clutching her husband's hand, she confessed, "I wasn't kidding about never being on one of these hypercoasters before."

"Need me to talk Wallner Lines?" He teased. "Too late…here we go."

Two minutes and forty-three seconds later…

"Holy sh…" Then she remembered Sean was in the car behind her. "My stomach is somewhere on the track. Those were not butterflies I felt in my belly!"

Grissom helped her out of the car. "Maybe you should sit the next one out, Honey."

"No way!" She insisted. "I loved it. I…I just didn't know what to expect the first time. Now I know."

She swallowed hard and smiled. "You two ride in the front this time. I'll be behind you."

"She's chicken!" Sean exclaimed as he hurried back to the ticket window.

In the shadows, the man pulled his UNLV baseball cap down a little further and moved as close as he could get without being discovered. Watching the happiness, he felt a strong reaction.

Another two minutes and forty-three seconds later…

"Holy shit!" She yelled as the coaster came to a halt.

"Bad word!" Sean reminded her. "But you're not under my mom's roof so you're okay."

"Honey…you don't look so good." Grissom took her hand and guided her back to the ticket window.

"I'm fine…fine." A smile twittered over her lips. "Who wants to go again?"

"Me!"

"Buy the tickets for us." Grissom handed him twenty five dollars. "Sara…you don't have to do this to prove me wrong."

"Oh please…would you stop." She held onto his arm so she wouldn't fall over. "I could do this all night. I feel great!"

"Twain said, _denial ain't just a river in Eygpt_."

"Keep it up and like Sean's mom said, _guess you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight_."

"Suit yourself."

Yet another two minutes and forty-three seconds…

"Holy…" Sara weakly said as she held her head. "That was the um…best one yet."

Grissom stared at his pale wife. "I think I need to cut you off."

"No way!" She held onto him for dear life. "I'm…just… getting…started."

"She's gonna hurl!" Sean proclaimed as he took a giant step back.

"No…I'm not." Sara held out her hand. "Come on, Sugar Daddy, give me some cash for tickets. All I have to do is make it through this next one and you lose."

He forked over the cash.

When she took it, she snickered, "Quote-boy…got one on perseverance?"

"Babe Ruth…_it's hard to beat a person who never gives up_."

She handed the money to Sean. "I can't really see so can you buy the tickets for me."

"Sure!"

While waiting for the tickets, Grissom kindly asked, "Wanna hear my quote on stupidity?"

"Save it."

Two minutes and forty-three seconds too long…

"I'm…fi…fine." Sara assured Grissom as she dug her fingernails into his arm and let him drag her off the ride. "See…I made it." She wobbled. "You lose."

"Funny, I don't feel like the loser in this group."

Sean took one look at her and yelled, "She's green and she's gonna blow chunks!"

Grissom got her to a garbage can just in time. While holding her hair, he said, "Ready for that quote on stupidity now?"

"Uh huh." Then she held up her index finger signaling she wasn't quite through.

Sean watched the scene with his arms folded across his chest. "Good thing my Aunt Carrie isn't here."

Grissom smiled at the boy. "You're going to make one hell of a Forensic Scientist one day, Sean. Not only do you have the brains for it…you have the stomach."

"Okay." Sara released her grip on the garbage can. "Give it to me."

"Oscar Wilde…the only thing that ever consoles man for the stupid things he does is the praise he always gives himself for doing them."

"I think I did an excellent job proving you wrong. And the hurling was good practice for morning sickness." She returned his smug glare with a grin. "Now I think I'll spend the rest of the night thinking of the toughest three questions I could possibly ask you."

Feeling bad for his mentor, Sean decided to pitch in. "Hey, Mr. Grissom, now that we're done riding, can I get a hotdog? A hotdog covered in thick yellow mustard and gooey red ketchup and lots of chunky super smelly green relish and stinky bits of onions and slimy pickles, the kind that glide right down your throat and…" Once Sara's head was back in the trash bin, he stopped torturing her. "Girls." He shook his head. "Can't live with 'em."

Grissom stared at his crazy wife. "Can't live without 'em." He mused…at least not anymore.

"Who said that?"

"Some poor fool hopelessly in love." Walking over he retrieved Sara. "Come on…let's get you a Sprite."

"Okay," She replied while gripping his shoulders.

He slipped his arm around her waist. "And we need to get you a pack of mints."

From the corner of his eye, the man had watched the entire scene, and the smile it put on his face still remained.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

"**Repercussions Part 8"**

**August 6, 2005 (Day 106)  
****Primm, Nevada  
****Buffalo Bill's Casino Resort  
****9:17 p.m.**

Sean perused the coffee shop menu while on the other side of the booth, Grissom held Sara while steadily feeding her breath mints.

"Howdy, I'm Janet." The fifty-something husky waitress with bottle blonde hair greeted. "Looks like someone needs a Desperado special…large Sprite and a pile of saltines."

"Yes, she definitely does." Grissom chuckled. "I'll have cup of coffee."

"And for your son?" Janet asked.

Despite her swirling stomach, Sara smiled because this absolute stranger believed she and Grissom were capable of being parents. "He's not our son. We're watching him for friends and having a great time."

"Lucky boy…they took you to ride the Desperado." The waitress winked. "How many times did you ride?"

"Five!" He boasted. "Then Mrs. Grissom hurled so we had to stop."

"I knew it was you!" Janet whistled over to her co-worker Donna. "I was right. They are the folks from TV. We were watching the news the other night and saw Ana Silva's special report." Snickering, she commented, "You were a little more animated on TV. I thought I was watching my soap opera."

"Great…the people of Primm saw us kiss too," Sara moaned. "That explains why I've felt like someone was watching me all night."

"On that note..." Grissom stood up. "I'm hitting the restroom."

"Aren't you going to ask for their autographs?" Sean inquired of the waitress.

"I'll have them sign the check," Janet laughingly replied. "Now what would like to have, young man?"

"Ice cream sundae with chocolate ice cream only, please."

"Coming right up," Janet announced before walking back to the kitchen.

"Sean…it's not like we're on a TV show." Sara felt her sense of humor coming back. "But here…" She took his napkin. "I'll give you an autograph."

_To Sean,_

_You're the coolest kid I know! _

_Your pal, Sara Grissom_

Sliding her napkin over, she said, "Now let me have yours because I'm a big fan. You rode the Desperado five times without hurling. That makes you a rock star in my book."

_To Mrs. Grissom,_

_You're the coolest girl I know._

_You're also the only girl who talks to me._

_Sean P. Blake – your second favorite scientist_

"So girls don't talk to you, huh?" She wrinkled her nose. "That's okay, boys didn't talk to me when I was in school."

"You got Mr. Grissom to talk to you."

"Yeah well…that was harder than riding the Desperado four times in a row and a lot worse on my stomach."

As Grissom returned to the booth, he asked, "What did I miss?"

"Sean and I traded autographs." She showed him the napkin.

Never one to tolerate a mystery, Grissom inquired, "Sean P…what does the P stand for?"

"Phillip, after my grandfather."

Sara turned to her husband. "Do you have a middle name?"

"Yes," He cheerfully answered. "Now you only have two personal questions left."

"Ugh!" She banged her fist on the table. "So not fair."

Sean found the game amusing. "This reminds me of Aladdin and the Magic Lamp. The genie grants three wishes and you have to be careful not to squander them."

"You've read Arabian Nights?" Sara asked. "Scheherazade saves her kingdom by seducing her husband with fantasy tales…excellent stuff."

"I've seen the Disney cartoon too. The book was better."

"There's a cartoon?"

Without interrupting the conversation, the waitress distributed their orders.

Grissom smiled at his wife. "Scheherazade…_one _of my favorite pieces of music."

"If you think I'm going to ask you what your favorite is, fat chance. I'm on to you now."

"You're dying to know what my middle name is." He needled, "Admit it."

"Fine…I'll still have one personal question left after that. What's your middle name?"

"Aaron." He gloated, "Now you want to ask if there's any significance but if you do, you'll have no questions left."

Sean joined in the conversation. "My name, Sean Phillip, means God is gracious and lover of horses. Although I don't really care about horses a lot. Do you know what your names mean?"

Sara appreciated the freebie from her second favorite scientist. "Sara means princess…doesn't really fit very well, does it? I don't have a middle name." Eyeing her husband, she said, "Who's left?"

While stirring a packet of artificial sweetener into his black coffee, Grissom provided his information. "Gil is an old Irish family name meaning Servant of Christ. My mother chose it as she was quite religious. Aaron means shining light."

"That's intriguing," Sara ruminated the significance. "Servant of Christ, shining light…and you're a crime solver bringing sinners to justice who often holds a flashing light. Hmm…there's an argument for prophecy."

"So I guess you're in the wrong job, Sara," Sean teased as he scooped another decadent spoonful of dessert.

"Apparently I missed my calling as royalty."

As Sara nibbled on crackers, Grissom continued staring. "Just ask it and get it over with before you slip up and ask something else and then never find out."

"I really can't stand you sometimes." She tossed her empty cracker wrapper on the table. "Why is your middle name Aaron?"

"It's my father's name, although he had everyone call him Ron."

Smiling brightly, she picked up another packet of crackers. "That was worth burning my last question."

Being the observant boy he was, Sean swallowed his latest heap of ice cream then announced, "Mr. Grissom, did the kids at school make fun of you because your initials spelled GAG?"

"Yes, but not every day. They rotated between making gagging sounds and a few other terms of endearment."

"You should hear what they call me…"

Retreating into her own thoughts, Sara faded out of the conversation. I don't have to ask Gil the reason he doesn't use his middle name or initial. Now that I know it's his father's name, the reason is obvious. Last week, after he told me the rollercoaster story, he spoke briefly about his father's actions, particularly about how he couldn't wait for his 18th birthday so he could rip up the next check from his father and mail it back with a scorching note. The intense hatred in his eyes as he spoke about the cowardly man left me no doubt regarding his feelings. I've only seen that look in his eyes on a handful of occasions and each one of those times, he was interrogating the vilest criminals. I'm certain he removed the middle name the day he cut his father out of his mind and his heart and those cuts, even forty years later, are still trying to heal. I know first hand how deep wounds can be tricky to mend. Even though you stitch yourself up, one wrong move…one ugly reminder…and the flesh tears open leaving you raw and vulnerable.

It's hard when you have so many unanswered questions and no one to offer even the weakest explanations. Would I feel better if I could ask my father why he was so quick to flash to rage? Would he reveal something from his past that would provide a logical explanation? Would he tell me he just didn't know any better and he didn't know how to get the help he desperately needed? Would he tell me how he would do things differently if he were given the chance? Would any of that make me feel better about being his child? About being the child left behind? I'll never know. Dr. Myers has asked me to make peace with my father like I have with my mother's memory. She wants me to write him a letter and bring it to his grave, but I'm still not ready. I guess I still have too many unanswered whys to forgive him just yet. So why did I keep his name all these years? I guess because as much as I don't want him to be a part of me, I can't deny that he loved me…loved us. He just didn't know how to love right…neither did she, and I'll never know why.

"Sara?" Grissom pulled her close. "You look a million miles away. Are you feeling okay?"

Sean held his fully belly. "Please don't hurl."

"Just a little rocky from the ride still." The love in his eyes rescued her. "You know…when we passed the arcade earlier, I saw they had Centipede. I used to kick ass at Centipede."

"I played a little Centipede in my younger days," Grissom warned. "It was always a favorite among Entomologists. Wait…you're not thinking of making another bet, are you?"

"I want my three questions back," She declared. "I have a thirst for knowledge that isn't quenched."

"One game, winner takes all."

"You're on."

"Sean, you can play the winner," Sara informed him. "Which means you'll be playing me."

**Crime Lab  
****Break Room  
****9:34 p.m. **

Greg was alone in the room filling up his coffee mug when Catherine strutted in. "I'm the boss tonight, Greggy, so how about you start sucking up by pouring me a cup of Joe?"

"You know I love it when you boss me around." He grabbed an empty mug. "If I get out of line at any point tonight, you have permission to spank me."

Joining him at the counter she remarked in a disturbed voice, "I sincerely hope you and Grissom don't have the same arrangement."

"No, he prefers to _kick_ me in the ass…usually when I need it." He extended the mug. "Here you go Lady Catherine…I submit to you."

Blowing into her mug, she snickered, "That reminds me…Warrick will be a little late tonight."

"Good…cause I have something I want to ask you."

"Greg, how many times do I have to tell you…"

"Not that." He grinned. "I'm over that." Walking over to the couch, he broached the subject. "It's about my relationship with Tawny."

"Relationship?" As she sat next to him she commented, "Uh…I didn't get the relationship vibe from what Warrick told me you said about her. I got a distinct booty call vibe."

"Yeah…" He stared into his mug. "I'm more serious about her now."

"Oh, Greggy…" His puppy dog eyes made it clear that she had to give him a reality check. "Please tell me you didn't fall in love with your plaything? I've known girls like Tawny all my life. She'll dump you as soon as she finds a guy with a fatter wallet. You should have seen her drooling over Grissom's. That should tell you something right there."

"She's not really like that and well…there's uh…we're kind of linked together because…"

"Don't tell me." Her eyes snapped open. "She's pregnant?" The shock in her voice barely reflected her astonishment. "Jesus, Greg…how could you let that happen?"

"You know, not to be dismissive but…I've already been down this path and reconciled all of it." Clearing his throat, he spoke confidently. "The facts are, she's pregnant, the baby is mine and we're keeping it. We don't have a romantic or physical relationship right now, but she's living with me and we're going to see what happens over time."

"Sounds very responsible of you." Catherine was a bit shocked. "Greg, you're growing up before my eyes. What's next? A normal haircut and the elimination of shocking colors from your wardrobe?"

"I'm keeping the hair, but I probably won't be able to afford shocking designer clothes with a baby on the way."

Resigned to the facts, she reached out. "So how can I help?"

"Well…" Enthusiastically he explained, "Turns out Tawny's dad was a math teacher and before she ran away from home, she was an honor student who took school very seriously. I'm encouraging her to pick a focus and try college. What I'd really love is if you would talk to her and give her some optimism that she can go from stripping to a traditional career. I think you'd be an excellent role model for her. What do you say?"

"As long as you warn her not to call me ma'am!" It still irritated her thinking about it. "Is she still stripping?"

"No, I told her to quit and move in with me so she wouldn't have to worry about covering her rent. She had a studio, but it was in a really high-rent building. I couldn't stomach the thought of all those men leering at her while she's pregnant or ever now that she's with me. I want to take care of her you know…she's my responsibility now whether we're a couple or not."

"Wow, Greg." Catherine locked her eyes on his. "For the first time ever you're turning me on. Not many guys would care about a pregnant stripper they've known for three weeks and those who would most likely would only toss some cash her way."

"Don't tell Warrick you're hot for me, okay?" He laughed into his mug. "I'm not much of a brawler and he would wipe the floor with my scrawny ass."

"I'd love to talk with Tawny." She patted Greg's thigh. "I could meet her at the Cheesecake Factory after her lunch shift tomorrow."

"I'll call and see what time exactly and let you know." His appreciation overflowed into a smile. "Thanks a lot."

"Little Greggy is going to be a daddy." Standing up she sighed, "That must mean I'm getting too god damn old!"

**Primm, Nevada  
****Buffalo Bill's Casino Resort  
****Coffee Shop  
****9:52 p.m.**

After he was certain Gil, Sara and the boy were gone, the man took a seat at the empty counter. Flagging down Janet, he politely said, "Excuse me, Miss?"

Janet smiled at the snappishly dressed, silver-haired senior who thought of her as a 'Miss' and not a dowdy ma'am. Everything about him screamed high roller: his golfer's tan, his pearly white capped teeth and his TAG Heuer watch. Since it was a slow night and the only generous tip she got was from Gil Grissom, she was willing to turn on the charm for another chance at a decent tip. "What can I get you, handsome?"

"A cup of coffee…" Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a platinum billfold thick with cash. "…and some information."

Janet's eyes lit up. "Cup of coffee coming right up and my brain will be yours for the picking."

"Thanks, Sweetie." He winked. "I need skim milk with that instead of cream."

"Cholesterol trouble?"

"Let's just say a life of excess finally caught up with me. I had a heart attack when I was fifty-three and cleaned up my act for a while, but I eventually fell off the wagon. A little over two years ago…the day before my seventieth birthday, I was in the hospital having a triple bypass. My doctor back in Boca Raton is still amazed I lived." He sighed heavily. "Eventually everything catches up with you and bites you in the ass."

"Tell me about it." She set a cup and saucer on the counter. "Found out I had diabetes last year. I know it's a stupid thing to miss but…I miss Double Stuff Oreos."

"Filet Mignon is what I still crave…slathered in butter and tossed on the grill, with a twice baked cheese filled potato on the side…followed by a double of my favorite Scotch." Smiling, he lifted his coffee cup. "Coffee with skim milk and fake sugar is an acquired taste. I've acquired it because I'm a stubborn bastard and I'm not ready to die at seventy-two or ninety-two."

"You look fit as a fiddle to me." Smoothing her apron over her thick waist, she groaned. "I'm twenty years younger than you and I can't climb a flight of stairs without getting winded. My doctor says I need to drop eighty pounds."

"You'd drop it fast if you had my personal trainer. She's a real hard ass…and I mean that literally and figuratively." Laughing, he returned his cup to its saucer. "The joke around the gym is all she needs is a whip and they'd have to call the place a fetish club."

"You remind me of someone," Janet remarked as she stared at the charming man before her. "This is going to sound really weird but…your eyes and when you laughed just now…you remind me of…"

"Gil Grissom?"

"How did you know I was going to say that?"

Extending his open hand, he introduced himself. "I'm Ron Grissom, Gil's father. But let's keep that between you and me, Janet." He tossed a hundred dollar bill on the counter. "Which brings me to the second part of my order tonight…information." He pulled out another c-note and stacked it on top of the first.

"What do you want to know?" She asked as she tucked away the money in her bra.

"Absolutely everything about them from the moment they walked in here." He sat back in his stool. "You see…I've been keeping tabs on my son his whole life, but he doesn't know that. The last time I saw him in person was a few days before his ninth birthday…that is until today. He'll be forty-nine on the seventeenth. That's forty years Janet…forty god damn years. I've seen photos, but seeing him in person…seeing me in him…having you see him in me…I'm glad my ticker is strong again because it's been a little overwhelming."

Janet, a fan of soap operas and dime novels, was fascinated and eternally grateful that it was August, the coffee shop was empty and the Desperado was closed for the night. Now the odds of anyone coming in were slim. "Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm happy you gave me the cash, but this story is so intriguing I would have told you what you wanted to know for free or, in exchange for me asking you some questions."

"What do you want to know?"

"Why the hell you waited forty years to see your son?" Then it hit her. "You heard he almost died in that building."

"It's what got me here, yes." Leaning forward he picked up his spoon. "I've thought about it many times over the years…like clockwork actually. Every time the calendar would switch to August and I'd be reminded of his birthday I'd think this is the year I'm going to try. But then when I thought of the details…how I would approach him, what I would say, how I would react when he cursed me out, which I expect him to do and certainly deserve…I'd get overwhelmed and not know what to do so I'd let the day come and go without doing anything."

"Until he almost died right before his birthday and you thought one day you might be too late!" Janet announced as if she'd solved a Sherlock Holmes mystery.

"I always thought I would be the one to die before I saw him again, never occurred to me it could be him." Aimlessly stirring his coffee, he said, "But you want to know what really motivated me to get off my ass the most?" He glanced up at the attentive waitress. "Sara." His eyes lit up. "Did you happen to catch her smile?"

Janet sweetly chuckled, "Yes, once she got over her rollercoaster nausea."

"That's the other thing about her tonight I found fascinating….she's so feisty and strong-willed. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I'm an excellent reader of people so I figure she wanted to keep up with the guys and wouldn't quit." Folding his arms across his chest, he grinned until the corners of his lips started melting into a frown. "She reminds me so much of my first wife…Gil's mother, Jillian. He wouldn't see it, because by the time Gil was old enough to remember her, she had lost her spunk and that beautiful smile."

"How many times you been married?"

"Three."

"How many times you been divorced?"

"Three." He shrugged. "The third time wasn't a charm…trophy wife, but the pre-nup saved my ass when she took off with a guy half my age. The second marriage was an honest attempt, but the passion wasn't there and it ended amicably."

"And the first time?"

"_That_ was the real deal. From the moment I met Jillian I knew she was the one. The chemistry between us was undeniable. Everyone in college knew we'd end up together. Everyone except _her_." Thinking back on the happier time he laughed from the belly. "It was the chase of a life time …."

_Ron Grissom hung out in the hall just beyond the door for Room 117 where Jillian Cleary had her watercolors class every Monday, Wednesday and Friday from four to five. He was certain she'd stay late as she did every Friday when most kids were rushing out the door to get ready for a weekend of parties. _

_At the stroke of five, as predicted, the students and the professor fled, leaving Jillian alone. It was time to make his move. It would be his fourth move this month and it was only November fifteenth, not that he was counting._

"_Is this Economics 101?" He asked in a clueless tone as he walked into the room full of easels and paint. _

"_Here we go again." Jillian tossed her thick mane of curly auburn hair off her shoulder before she resumed painting. "Don't you have some fraternity party to go to?" _

"_Why do you insist on thinking I'm a party boy?" _

_From behind her easel, she glared. "Maybe because you were discovered passed out at the campus fountain with a bunch of your cronies?" _

"_One time! Hardly makes it a habit." He meandered from easel to easel checking the students work. "Some of this stuff looks like finger painting to me." _

"_What would you know?" She snipped while hiding her smile behind her palette. "You're a business major." _

"_You say that like it's a crime." _

"_Tell me the last book you read that wasn't a required text," She asked as she dipped her brush in pale pink paint. _

"_Uh…I…let's see…hmm…well…" _

"_Has anyone ever told you that you're extraordinarily articulate?" _

"_No." _

"_I'm not surprised." Her lips thinned into a smile. _

"_Ouch!" He covered his heart with his hands. "You keep treating me this badly I'm going to refuse to hang around you, no matter how much you beg." _

_Flabbergasted by his statement, she lowered her brush and gawked. "When have I ever begged you to hang around me?" _

"_Well you don't directly ask," He explained. "It's more of a body language thing."_

"_You mean like when you asked me out last Saturday and I shook my head vehemently while telling you no?" _

"_But we both know you wanted to say yes." Turning his back, he sensed her breaking into a grin. "Okay, you see this painting…and I use the term in the loosest manner…" He pointed to a white canvas covered in only splats of yellow. "I'm sorry, but this looks like someone brought in their dog and had him pee on the canvas. If I had to name it, I'd call it Rover Discovers Snow and Takes a Leak." When he heard her muffled laughter, he was pleased. "I hear you over there laughing at my joke."  
_

"_It belongs to Susan Hayes. She said it's lemons crying," She informed him. "But I prefer your interpretation, mostly because I can't stand Susan." _

_With his hands in his pockets, he strolled towards her. "Why would lemons be crying?" Her mouth was curved into a full smile and his eyes devoured its beauty. _

"_I suppose they could have their reasons." Dipping her brush in pale green, she made a few swift strokes. _

"_Do you think they're crying because they're being juiced? I mean that's gotta hurt, right?" _

"_If that were the case why wouldn't she just say it was a painting of lemons being juiced?" _

_He cracked a grin as wide as hers. "Because then it wouldn't be all dark and mysterious. You artsy types always like things complicated. Who would buy a painting of lemons being juiced? No one. But you market it as a bunch of tragic lemons bawling their eyes out over social injustice and voila…it's a hot commodity." _

"_Marketing major," She huffed. _

"Art freak," He teasingly countered as he came behind her to assess her work. "Now this…this I get."

_As usual, his proximity unnerved her and yet she hoped he wouldn't retreat. "You think so?"_

"_Absolutely." He lowered his voice to a silky cadence. "The gentle brush strokes, the delicate touch, the amazing use of color to represent mood…" _

_As he spoke she felt his warm breath on her ear. _

"_Your painting is crying out to me," He said in a soulful whisper. _

"_What's it saying?" She asked while her breathing increased from the feel of his body against hers and the knowledge that he shared her artistic vision. _

"_It's saying…" He placed his hands on her shoulders. "…take a chance and ask Jillian out one more time, because you made her laugh and that's always a good sign. So what do you say? Can I take you out for dinner tonight, Jillian?" _

"_You! You had me going!" Flicking her brush, she splattered him with pale green paint. "You drive me insane!" _

"_Is this a yes?" He asked while ducking her flying brush. "Because I'm getting mixed signals." _

"_No!" She tossed her palette in his direction. "I will not go out with you tonight or **any** night!" _

"_Has anyone ever told you that you have one hell of an Irish temper?" He yelled while holding up his arms to defend himself from additional projectiles._

"_Yes!" _

"_I'm not surprised!" He sought refuge behind the easel with the lemon painting. "Look…these lemons are already crying, so don't throw things at them and upset them anymore." _

"_Stop it!" She wanted to loathe him but she couldn't. "Stop making me laugh." _

"_The Catcher in the Rye!" _

"_What?" _

"_You asked me the last book I read…The Catcher in the Rye. I couldn't think of it before because you had me all flustered." _

"_I make you flustered?" She reached down and picked up her palette. "You were top in your class freshman year and the most successful member of the debate club but I render you verbally incompetent?" _

"_Yes and…why do you know so much about me if you don't like me?" _

"_Don't flatter yourself, I read it in the school newspaper." She walked over to the sink to fetch some towels. "I remember everything I read." _

"_Really? I don't buy that." _

_Leaving her wad of paper towels on the counter, she boldly approached her unrelenting suitor. Placing one hand on his shoulder she locked her eyes on his and said, "If you want to know the truth, I'm a virgin. I really am. I've had quite a few opportunities to lose my virginity and all, but I've never got around to it yet." _

"_Um…well…I…" His mouth kept flapping but no sounds emerged. _

_Grinning, Jillian removed her hand from his shoulder. "That's a direct quote from The Catcher in the Rye. You know…the last book you read." _

"_I knew that." _

"_Sure you did." Her eyes rolled hard as she turned her back on him._

"_I blew it, didn't I?" _

"_Yep." She resumed cleaning up her paint mess. _

"_What's a good Catholic girl like you doing reading Catcher in the Rye anyway?" When she ignored him he huffed, "Here…at least let me help you." Hurrying to the sink, he grabbed more towels. "I didn't mean to make you mad," He assured her as he joined her on the floor to wipe up the remaining paint._

"_Who is the main character in Catcher in the Rye?" She snipped._

"_Holden Caulfield," He answered while focusing on his clean-up effort._

"_And what does he mean when he says he wants to be a catcher in the rye?" _

"_He wants to be a guard for the children so they can play without the danger of going over the edge of the field." He stopped wiping and looked up, happy to see her smile again and thrilled that she was only a foot away. "I uh…figured that was a metaphor though…he's trying to protect their innocence...trying to prevent them from plunging into adulthood." _

"_Very good." _

"_You know…here I am on my knees and suddenly I'm asking myself…Ron Grissom, are you too proud of a man to beg a beautiful young woman to go out with you?" _

"_What's your answer?" _

"_My answer is normally yes, but since it's you…all bets are off. So on my knees, I'm asking you…please go out with me tonight." _

"_No way." Her smile spread so wide it hurt. "Not with you covered in paint. You'll have to clean up your act if you want to take me out on the town." _

_Lifting his hand to his face, he checked for paint. "Oh." _

"_And on the other side over…" Reaching out, she smoothed her fingertips over the green streak on his cheek. "…here." The pit of her stomach whipped into a wild swirl and try as she might, she couldn't remove her hand._

_The feel of her delicate fingers against his skin thrilled him and instinctively he covered her hand with his._

_Hearts hammering, they inched closer, each feeling the pent-up desire of a year's worth of cat and mouse games coming to a head. Without a word exchanged, they fell into each other's arms and let their parted lips fuse in a tantalizing kiss. _

"Wow," Janet sighed from her soul. "I'm so flattered you chose to tell the story to me."

"Don't be too flattered." He held out his coffee cup for a refill. "Dozens of bartenders around the globe know it too."

"What went wrong? Why did you get divorced from the love of your life?"

Pouring a dash of milk in his coffee he pushed out a sigh. "Same uncontrollable passion that brought us together killed us in the end. It's a long story and not one I care to tell. The short story though…her stubbornness about something ended up costing her and caused our marriage to suffer and I was angry at her for ruining what we had and what we were working towards. Eventually she shut me out and when she did, I walked away." As he churned the milk into his coffee, he said, "I think she believed that, like when we were back in college, I wouldn't stop pursuing her…but I wasn't the same man I was in college after everything that happened. I had become a pathetic shadow of him."

"Would you do the same thing if you had a second chance?" Janet asked with baited breath.

"The only time you can answer that question correctly is when it's already too late." He set his spoon on the new napkin Janet had placed on the counter. "Of course, knowing what I know now, I would do a lot of things differently, but the guy I was back then would always make the same selfish choices. I had big things I wanted to accomplish and I sold out. Here's another thing I didn't realize until it was too late…sometimes the things you thought were the most important end up leaving you empty at the end of the day…or at the end of your life, as discovered when I was hanging onto a thread in the hospital two years ago. My career always came first and I have the bank account to prove it. But now I'm an old man who is so lonely that he has to pay people to stick around. I pay a housekeeper to cook and clean for me. I pay a personal trainer to kick my ass. I used to pay bartenders to listen to my stories and now I'm paying you."

"Is that what you're going to try and do with your son?" Janet leaned against the counter. "Try to buy your way into his life?"

"Wouldn't work." Ron folded his arms across his chest and smiled. "He's his mother's boy. The day he turned eighteen he returned the hefty check I sent him and told me to go to hell. I still sent money to Jillian though. She needed it so she couldn't turn it down."

"Hmm."

"So tell me what you know." He lifted his coffee now that it had cooled. "What did you learn about them? Do you know the boy's name?"

"That's not their boy. They were babysitting him for friends."

Ron stopped in mid sip. "And here I thought I had a grandson."

"I wouldn't lose hope." Janet laughed. "I saw Gil and Sara on TV the other night after the rescue. Between the way they were kissing and considering how much younger she is than him…I bet they have plans."

"They do look very in love." In a bittersweet voice, he commented, "But what scares me is so did Jillian and I once upon a time. They've only been married a little over a week…they're newlyweds. The first year of marriage is a bear."

"On TV they said it was a relationship five years in the making."

Ron was caught off guard by his own laugh. "I have no doubt that was my son's fault. If he inherited his mother's stubbornness and my self-centeredness, what chance did Sara have? Considering he's almost fifty and just starting a family I fear, like me, he chose career over happiness."

Always the romantic, Janet countered, "Or he just didn't find the right woman until now."

**The Grissoms'  
****11:26 p.m. **

After brushing her teeth once more, Sara emerged from the bathroom wearing her favorite fluffy pink bathrobe. "Honey?" Upon glancing around the room, she saw her husband was nowhere to be found and took the opportunity to go to the stereo and load a special selection.

"What are we going to listen to tonight?" Grissom asked as he entered the room and saw her at the stereo. He was a little disappointed to see her already wearing her bathrobe. She only wore that _after,_ or when there wasn't going to be a _before_.

"We're going to listen to a little Opera," She answered before turning around. "You see while I've been home alone at night,I started listening to some of your CDs. But sometimes I have questions and you're not here to answer them, so it's _frustrating_."

"What can I do to help?" He asked through a stealthy grin, suddenly suspecting there was more on her mind than just an opera tutorial.

With a flick of a finger, she turned on the music. "Tonight I'd like to study Bizet's_ Carmen_…Habanera specifically."

"Intriguing selection," He remarked while the first enticing notes of the piece floated through the candle-scented air. It was clear to him that Sara picked the song in isolation, for if she knew the tragic end to the opera and how close it hit to home, she wouldn't like it as much.

With an innocent expression and her fingers coiling around the belt of her robe, she walked towards him. "Tell me a little about the story."

"Carmen is a gorgeous gypsy girl living in Seville. She's a free spirit…someone used to turning the heads of men without much effort." As he spoke his eyes savored the mischievous glint in her eye. "Habanera, your song of choice tonight, is sung by Carmen. It's in the first act...she sees a group of men, factory workers, returning from their lunch break and decides to explain to them that love obeys no laws…specifically that love is like a rebellious bird…that's what she's telling them in this mesmerizing aria."

"Are they listening?" She asked in a husky whisper as she stopped in front of him.

"Of course…because she's a siren. They can't take their eyes off her and her voice drives them wild with desire. They all fall for her charms, that is except for one man, Don Jose…he's playing hard to get and it _frustrates_ her. She just sang these words…he says nothing, but he pleases me."

"Is he really into his career?" She inquired while slinking around behind him. "Or does he just not know what to do about the situation?"

"A little of both." He chuckled from her questions and the delightful feel of her hands gliding over the back of his shirt. "You know…Habanera is considered by many, me included, to be the most seductive piece of opera music ever written."

"I had no idea," She purred in his ear before returning to her place in front of him. "Tell me…what color dress does Carmen usually wear?"

In perfect unison with the first crescendo of the music, he answered "red" and she yanked open her robe.

When he saw what she revealed he released a pleasure-filled gasp. "It's the infamous red opera dress."

On the next crescendo she dropped the pink robe. "And I see it still has its hold over you."

"On a hanger it wouldn't, but on you…" He lunged for her hand but she snapped it away just in time. "I thought Don Jose doesn't want Carmen?"

"He gives in a few songs after this, but you're more enticing than a gypsy girl and I'm a lot weaker than Don Jose." Reaching out once more, he captured her wrist and pulled her into his chest. "This is a _very _nice surprise you planned."

"I had a feeling you'd enjoy it," She commented in a sultry tone as she grazed her lips over his. "Next week we'll probably be forced to make love every day and because it will be baby making love we'll feel compelled to be sweet like we did last month. Tonight's not about conception so I thought, why not get a little wild?"

Recalling her outrageous performance in San Francisco the last time she wore the dress, he optimistically inquired, "How wild?"

"That depends…" Pulling away she flashed a devilish grin. "How much cash do you have on you?"

Her answer and the fact that he still had plenty of money left in his wallet thrilled him. "Start the song over and let's see what you've got, Carmen," He playfully announced as he pulled out his wallet and took a seat in the arm chair in the corner of the room.

When he heard the familiar first line, _L'amour est un oiseau rebelle, que nul ne peut apprivoiser_…love is a rebellious bird that nothing can tame…he knew he was in for a treat. Relaxing back in the chair he devoured her with his passion-filled eyes and rejoiced once more that she was his wife now and forever.

* * *

"_Jillian, this isn't the way I want your first time to be," Ron sweetly pleaded as he began buttoning his shirt. His twenty-two year old body begged him to shut up, but his mind wouldn't listen. "We're in a field. And you should be in your oil painting class. And you're Catholic. And…I wanted you to at least have an engagement ring first."_

_Sheltered from the rain under a thick shade tree, they had been playfully kissing on their picnic blanket for an hour when things suddenly intensified. It was understandable after two years of building desire. _

"_Where isn't important…a ring will come when you can afford it." Her cheeks flushed, she assured him, "I'm ready now. I love you and I want more. Only passions, great passions can elevate the soul to great things". _

"_Shakespeare?" _

"_You always guess Shakespeare," She teased as she sat up, dropping the blanket which had been covering her instead of her rain-soaked blouse. "It's Diderot." Reaching out, she slipped her hand beneath his shirt and urged him closer. "Kiss me again because we need to stay warm." _

_Her voice and her body beguiled him and even though every fiber of his being told him not to, he covered her mouth in a fiery kiss. "Jillian we shouldn't…" He weakly protested one more time. He knew once she set her mind on something there was little he could do to sway her…not that he really wanted to, he just thought it was the responsible thing to attempt. When he realized there would be no turning back, he brushed her damp hair off her face, and captured her eyes with his. "I love you…I'll love you forever." _

As Ron Grissom stared at the ceiling of his hotel room, he wondered the same thing he did every time the memory haunted him. If he hadn't given into the passion, if Gil hadn't been conceived on that rainy afternoon causing a chain of events that would change their lives forever, would things have turned out differently?

* * *

_The story continues in: Second Chances - The 4th installment in the series._

_Series Teaser: who needs one, who will need one, and who deserves one? _

_Thanks, _

_Maggs _


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